A Special Operation
by PuraJazzBot
Summary: [G1.Binaltech.Alternators] The Autobots and the Earth Defense Command have a rather big problem... They wind up calling on Jazz to fix it... The question is: can he?..... Updated with new chapters TFs property of HasTak..
1. A Class Of My Own

**A Class Of My Own**

"We need you, Jazz."

Four words. Three words if he didn't count his name. That was all it had taken to turn his life into one huge circus. Not that it hadn't been a circus before, but this one took the proverbial oil-cake. One moment he had been enjoying the sights and sounds of Paris – including the famous Paris Opera – the next moment, he was answering a call from Optimus Prime, with the Eiffel Tower as his backdrop.

At first, Jazz had been reluctant to even answer the call, as this was his first real vacation ever since the Autobots had joined forces with the Earth Defense Command (EDC) to combat the second, and deadlier, outbreak of Cosmic Rust. Still, he knew they wouldn't have called him unless the situation was such that only Jazz, and Jazz alone, was capable of handling it. So he answered the call, and he hadn't been disappointed.

"We have reason to believe that the EDC was infiltrated by human spies in league with the Decepticons," Prime told him. "No one has been able to find out who they are, but the trouble they've created has been grave. The Decepticons now know of the Binaltech Project."

Ah yes, the Binaltech Project. The reason the Autobots had allied themselves with the EDC in the first place. Megatron had found a way to enhance the destructive properties of the virus that made it resistant to Perceptor's old Corrostop cure. The two Decepticon combiner groups – the Stunticons and Combaticons – had ambushed and attacked a small Autobot shuttle carrying five Autobots in it, returning from an outer-space mission, and unleashed the virus, but not without two of their number sustaining considerable damage first.

The infected Autobots had returned to Earth and imposed a quarantine on themselves so as not to infect any of the other Autobots. Yet Sunstreaker had managed to find them holed up in a cave somewhere in the middle of the desert – since one of the infected mechs had been his twin brother Sideswipe – low on energy and slowly being eaten away by the rust. On learning of the condition of the five mechs, Chip Chase, a long-time friend of the Autobots, had pulled some strings at the EDC and initiated the Binaltech Project.

Since the Cosmic Rust only affected Cybertronian metal, Chip and the other EDC scientists, with some help and guidance from Perceptor, Wheeljack and Ratchet, had been able to come up with a suitable Earth metal alloy – just as thick and strong as the Cybertronian metal – that they used to build new, transformable bodies for the injured Autobots. At this point, several Earth car manufacturers had come forward with sponsorship deals and blueprints to car models that they felt would best suit a particular Autobot. All this was then adapted to Transformer technology by Teletran 1.

Not wanting to lose five of his best soldiers, not to mention close friends, Optimus Prime had given the Binaltech team the green light to go through with the project. The human scientists, under the close supervision and care of Chip, managed to transfer each wounded Autobot's personality component and life-spark into his new body, after which, the old bodies were completely destroyed to eradicate any remaining traces of Cosmic Rust. The project was kept secret to prevent any Decepticons obtaining the information.

"I'm terribly sorry Jazz," Prime said. "I know how much you had been looking forward to touring Europe, and I truly regret having to cut your holiday short, but I would not have called you in if I didn't think you were the only mech for the job."

Everything had been progressing so smoothly that Jazz had put in for leave, intending to take a nice, long vacation to rest and recharge after all the months of work and worry he'd put in, in an effort to help save his friends' lives. And for a while it had turned out to be a nice vacation. He'd toured Britain and the south of France, he was currently in Paris, and he'd planned to head to Italy in a couple of days. It'd all been too good to be true.

"We need you, Jazz."

Jazz sighed. "Alright, I'll be there." It was not like he had much of a choice anyway. "Tell Skyfire to pick me up from the Eiffel Tower tomorrow morning."

Prime looked relieved. "Thank you Jazz. You're the best agent we've got."

"No kidding, I'm the only agent you've got," Jazz replied with a little grin. "I'll see ya tomorrow. Jazz out."

The black and white mech cut the connection, then looked at the rosy, twilight sky. 'I'm the only agent you've got'. The thought was somewhat sobering. The Autobots had numbers when it came to warriors, medics, scientists, engineers, spies, etc, but they had only one Special Operations Agent and Jazz was it. He wondered what would happen the day he bit the dust and they didn't have him anymore.

'Maybe I should start training a couple of the guys, just in case,' he thought, and then immediately dismissed the idea.

It was impossible. The skills he possessed had not been taught to him, they'd come naturally. There was no way another mech could get them unless he'd been cloned from Jazz himself and shared part of his spark. He shook his head. It was wishful thinking. For now, he was all the Autobots had, and he had to go stick his neck on the line again.

He transformed to his Porsche mode and drove off, intending to squeeze in as much sight-seeing he could that evening before he had to go back again. There was another reason Jazz restrained himself from recruiting anyone else for the job, and that was because most of the missions he undertook were dangerous, where one wrong move could get you slagged. Because of his cool, laid-back nature, and his calm, adaptive mind, Jazz made it look fairly easy, but there had been a few times he'd barely escaped death, and numerous times, especially in his early years, he'd been badly hurt.

He knew he'd never be able to live with the guilt if some young mech went and got himself killed because Jazz hadn't taught him enough, or because he just wasn't the right mech for the job. No, Jazz would rather do the mission himself than get an innocent Autobot killed.

* * *

Skyfire picked him up the next day, as planned, and Jazz gazed wistfully at the beautiful city below him as it grew smaller and smaller as Skyfire rose. He sighed.

"You alright Jazz?" Skyfire's kindly voice sounded around him.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just peachy."

"You don't sound fine."

"I just really wanted to see the rest of Europe y'know, from the inside. Get to know more of the cultures and such."

"But you already know so much."

"People change Skyfire. And when people change, cultures tend to shift as well."

"That's interesting, I didn't know that."

"Well you're a scientist, so you wouldn't necessarily come across cultural shifts in your line of work. Don't sweat it, we all gotta do what we're good at."

"I agree, but there's no reason why I should not foray out of the world of Science once in a while, to learn of something completely different."

"I guess not."

"So tell me of some of the things you have seen in your travels."

Jazz complied and proceeded to tell him about all that he'd seen – Stonehenge, the Tower of London, Galway Bay, Loch Ness, L'Arc de Triumph – if for nothing else than just to while away the time till they reached their destination.

"So how exactly DID the Decepticons get to know about the Binaltech Project?" Jazz asked. "If the whole thing was supposed to be a top secret project."

"They had someone on the inside, a spy within the EDC ranks, or so we've been told. I don't have many details for you Jazz, but I'm sure you'll be given all the information you need at Autobot City, and you wont have to wait long either, we're here."

Skyfire dropped Jazz off at the landing docks, then rose and flew off again. Jazz strolled across the open ground and headed to a door that would take him inside Autobot City. As Jazz neared, the doors parted down the middle with a soft hiss, and he went in. At a guess he surmised that Optimus Prime would be waiting for him at the Command Center, so he made his way there.

On the way he passed the gym, where Sideswipe was just coming out. For a split-second he did a double-take to make sure it really WAS Sideswipe. He was still trying to get used to seeing his friends with new bodies. Sideswipe, though still red, had sacrificed his old Lamborghini model for a newer Dodge Viper convertible alt mode. The red mech smiled when he saw Jazz.

"Hey Jazz, what are you doing back here? Weren't you on vacation or something?" he asked.

"I was. Then Prime called," Jazz replied.

"Ah, the whole 'duty to Autobots more important than personal sanity' thing huh?"

"Something like that. How're you doin' though man?"

Sideswipe fidgeted. "I'm okay. Still trying to get used to this new body and all, and accept the fact that Sunny and I don't look like twins anymore."

"Hey man, you're still brothers at spark, it doesn't matter what each of you looks like on the outside."

"Heh, try telling that to Sunstreaker."

"Good point." They reached the Command Center. "Well I gotta leave you here ol' buddy. Time to hear the boss."

"Good luck on that," Sideswipe said. "Later Jazz."

"Y'take care Sides."

Jazz stepped inside. Prowl was there and he acknowledged Jazz's presence with a nod, then went back to his work. Jazz knew from experience that was as close a greeting he was going to get from the tactician, so he grinned and headed to Prime's private office. He knocked out a rhythm on the door.

"Come in Jazz," Prime called.

Jazz went in. "How'd you know it was me?"

"Normally people just barge inside, and the few who do knock barely waste time with a rhythm."

"Ah well, y'know me, always the unique one."

"Precisely why I had no other choice but to call you back. You're the only one with the unique talent to handle a situation like this. We did think of using another Autobot, but I …."

"You didn't trust him not to get himself killed," Jazz finished for him. "I get ya. So what's my mission? You only said the Alliance has been infiltrated and the Decepticons found out about the Binaltech Project. How did all this happen? Everything was just fine when I left, after we kicked the 'Cons off the planet with the help of our new Binaltech boys."

"Someone planted spies amongst the EDC to cause suspicion and confusion within its ranks, particularly those involved with Binaltech. Amidst all the distrust and confusion about who was loyal and who was not, several blueprints went missing. The blueprints contained valuable information regarding the models of both present and future Binaltech Autobots. If those blueprints fall into Decepticon hands, and we already think they might have, the results could be disastrous for the Alliance."

Jazz crossed his arms. "I'll get right on it. What do you want me to do?"

Prime shook his head. "Nothing at the moment. The Alliance has called a meeting at the EDC headquarters tomorrow morning. I want you to attend it with Prowl and myself. We will discuss the next course of action there. For now though, take some time to rest and prepare yourself. After tomorrow I have a feeling none of us will be having much time to ourselves. Dismissed."

Jazz gave his leader a half-hearted salute, then went back outside. There, he leaned back against a wall with a sigh. Prowl looked up at him.

"Something the matter?" he asked.

"I just don't see why y'all couldn't have finished all the debatin' and politickin' and then called me in," Jazz replied. "Y'know I hate sittin' through that whole mess."

"The EDC specifically requested that you be there."

"Huh? Why?"

"You'll find out tomorrow I suppose." Prowl turned back to his work.

Jazz shook his head and left the Command Center, deciding to head down to his quarters and 'unpack' of sorts. The nice thing about being a senior Autobot was that he got to have a slightly larger room compared to most of the others, which was good for all his clutter.

An impressive entertainment system stood in one corner, in front of a floor-to-ceiling shelf containing CDs, DVDs and games. Next to that was his desk, on which sat his entire computer system. Here and there, on the walls, hung framed gold and platinum records of some of his favorite musicians, all personally autographed to him – from Stevie Wonder, to Aerosmith, to Pavarotti. There were also framed, original movie posters, again autographed by the directors and some of the cast – The Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Gladiator, among others. In between all the popular culture, there were plenty of authentic souvenirs from some of the countries he'd visited.

A lot of 'Bots had said that stepping into Jazz's room was like stepping into an Arts gallery. Jazz didn't mind, he liked his room, eventhough he was now finding it a bit hard to find space for all his stuff. After unsubspacing various items, that he left on his desk, he slipped in a CD of Vivaldi's compositions, then lay down in his recharge berth and tried to relax, trying not to think too much of what could possibly go down at that meeting tomorrow, and why the heck they wanted him there.

Jazz was woken from a deep sleep by the door chime going off. He sat up and realized that he must have slipped into recharge without meaning to. He went to the door and hit a button. The door slid open revealing a frowning Sunstreaker, arms crossed in front of his chest.

"So its true then?" he asked. "Prime really did cut your vacation short just to bring you back for some slagged-up meeting?"

"Relax Sunny, I got a feeling its going to be a little more than 'some slagged-up meeting'. He would have never called me back otherwise," Jazz assured him.

Sunstreaker muttered something nasty about the Autobot leader, then stepped into Jazz's room and went over to the desk to see what the other mech had brought back. He looked up for a moment and glanced at the CD player.

"Don't you have any Sinatra in that collection of yours?" he asked

Jazz grinned. "Ol' Blue Eyes coming up."

As Jazz changed the music, Sunstreaker picked up a miniature guillotine and gave Jazz a questioning look.

"From the Tower of London," Jazz said. "You and Sideswipe should go. I think you'd like the place."

Sunstreaker snorted. "I'd be lucky if I can get Sideswipe to go to the market with me." He sighed and sat down on the chair in front of Jazz's desk.

"Something going on between you two?" Jazz asked.

"I wish. At least that way I'd know he's still Sideswipe, but these days he hasn't been himself. He's been... I don't know, too quiet. He doesn't talk to me anymore. I don't know if he's still my brother."

"Of course he's your bro man, Swipe loves ya."

"Its not a question of love. Its a matter of communication. The slag-head wont talk to me. He's got something on his mind that he's not telling me about."

"Maybe he just doesn't want to talk about it."

"We always talk, about everything. I want to know why he's so sad."

"Sad?" Jazz frowned. "I talked to him a while ago and he seemed perfectly happy to me."

"Its in his optics. I can tell. They've lost their spirit. I just wish he would tell me what's wrong." He looked at the other mech leaning on the desk beside him, almost pleadingly. "He likes you, he'll talk to you. Please Jazz, find out what's got him so down."

Jazz was troubled. It wasn't every day that the yellow mech would willingly ask anyone for help, and even after the worst of their fights, the Twins never felt this distant from each other. It was hurting them both.

"I'll do my best Sunny, I promise," he said.

… He found Sideswipe later, wandering down one of the hallways and fell into step beside the red mech.

"Sides, we need to talk," he said.

"What about?"

"About you." Jazz looked him right in the optics, through his visor. Sunstreaker was right. The sparkle of mirth that seemed to live in Sideswipe's optics was gone, replaced by a sort of haunted sadness. "Your brother's worried about you."

"I'm fine Jazz, really."

"Are you? Really? Doesn't feel that way ta me. You ain't yourself, and I don't mean physically."

Sideswipe stopped walking and looked at Jazz. "I know you told me we'd always be twins at spark, but it just doesn't feel like that. We don't look the same anymore and I just feel really bad about it. I feel bad about getting the upgrade while he still looks, well, like that. If anyone deserves a makeover, its him."

"You were dying Sides. They did this to save you. Sunny doesn't hold it against you, he's the one who insisted they do it. He's just glad you're still alive, that you're still with him, but he misses you."

"He never told me that."

"From what I gather, you've never been around long enough for him to tell you. Don't you think you owe it to him to try and make things better between the two of you again? He loves you Sides, and he'll always be your brother no matter what either of you look like."

Sideswipe winced. "Where's Sunny now?"

"Shuttle docks I think. He wanted to get some fresh air."

"Thanks Jazz." Sideswipe ran for broke.

By the time Jazz reached the docks and peeped out, the brothers stood facing each other, foreheads touching, hands on each others shoulders, speaking words Jazz couldn't, and wouldn't, hear. The black and white smiled and went back inside. Mission accomplished.

* * *

Coming Next: Why do the EDC want Jazz?


	2. Meeting People

**Meeting People**

They were outnumbered ten humans to one Autobot inside the large EDC auditorium, but the three Autobots were far from intimidated as they sat and listened to proceedings. Or at least Prime and Prowl listened, as the humans brought up various and sundry topics for discussion, occasionally weighing in with a comment of their own. Jazz, however, was bored out of his mind, especially when he found out they were not going to discuss the Binaltech matter right away. And since none of the topics being talked about at the moment had anything to do with Arts and Culture, he soon zoned out, resorting to listening to some music on his internal audio system.

The Bee Gees 'Saturday Night Fever' soundtrack played into his audios at a volume where he could still hear the discussion going on around him, but now and then he'd smile to himself, nod, and tap his foot to the beat of a song he particularly liked, earning several disapproving stares from Prowl, who was seated to his right. Jazz would just grin back at him and still his movements. He'd probably have to endure a lecture from Prowl on the way home, about the proper etiquette for meetings, but he'd deal with that when it happened. After all, he wasn't one for politics and debates.

Then, towards the end of a brilliant rendition of 'Jive Talkin', he received a nudge from Prowl, who nodded to the podium where yet another EDC official had taken his place. Jazz immediately stopped his music and paid attention. The man was middle-aged, and wore a white coat of the kind favored by doctors and scientists.

"And now we come to a matter of great importance," he said. "I'd like to thank our Autobot friends for being patient with us while we discussed other matters, because I felt that this topic should be saved for the last, so that we could have everyone's undivided attention."

Jazz sighed, not exactly loudly, but loud enough to earn himself a frown from Prowl. He knew who the speaker was – one Dr. Gates, one of the scientists in charge of the Binaltech Project because of his vast knowledge of robotics. He also liked to talk, and took his time to get to the point.

"As you all know, because of the infiltration by – we assume – Decepticon spies, several blueprints of the new Binaltech Autobots have gone missing. If the Decepticons were to somehow create Binaltech versions of themselves, I'm afraid few of us would be safe. As it is, they have already been able to cause chaos within the EDC, planting seeds of mistrust and suspicion within its ranks."

"Forgive my interruption Dr. Gates," Prime spoke up. "But do we have any new information regarding this matter?"

Jazz fought down a smirk. Prime and Dr. Gates were good friends, but even the Autobot leader sometimes tired of the good doctor's ramblings, and often had to give him a little nudge back on track.

Dr. Gates held Prime's gaze for a moment before continuing. "Yes, yes we do. We have managed to apprehend a suspect. One Jonathon Mason. Security cameras caught him breaking into an office from which one of the blueprints were stolen."

"Jonathon Mason," Jazz murmured the name to himself, sitting up a little straighter.

"You know him?" Prowl asked softly.

"The name rings a bell."

"Our own spies also report that they may have seen the Decepticon Starscream," Dr. Gates went on. "But no one's been able to keep a steady track of him as he is far too fast and too crafty to allow himself to be followed."

Prowl shifted in his seat and Jazz heard his doorwings give off a creak. Prowl starting to fidget was a sign that even the calm tactician's patience was starting to thin. He wanted to address the main points and finish with it so that he could get back to his work at Autobot City. They'd already wasted half the morning sitting here and doing slag-all.

"With all due respect Dr. Gates," Prowl spoke up. "We know what Starscream is like. I believe the main purpose of this assembly was to come to a solution regarding the problem of spies and the stolen blueprints. That is why you had us call in our best agent is it not?"

Jazz raised an optic ridge at Prowl's compliment. It wasn't often that the tactician complimented anyone.

"Well yes," Dr. Gates replied. "As we discussed a couple of days earlier, your agent and one of our agents will be investigating the matter together. We don't want to raise too much suspicion by sending in too many people. their first task would be to find out who the spies are, and henceforth, who the spies are working for, after which they will have to somehow infiltrate the enemy territory to retrieve the stolen blueprints."

"Guy makes it sound like a walk in the park," Jazz said. "My specialty is Special Ops, not miracle work."

"This IS a special operation," Prime said, overhearing him. "However I do agree with you. We may be getting too ahead of ourselves. We need to take things one step at a time. Our first goal should be restoring trust between member of the EDC."

"Don't see how I can help to do that," Jazz said. "These people don't trust each other, they're gonna trust me? An Autobot?"

"Exactly," Prowl said. "You were not here when the infiltration happened, therefore you can be trusted. Also, most of the EDC officials already like you, as you have proven yourself to be an easy mech to get along with, so they will more likely talk to you than to one of their own kind."

"He is right," Dr. Gates said. "Infact, a majority of those seated here today requested that you be brought in. Your skills in handling unusual cases are unmatched."

"Aw gee, y'all are gonna make me blush now," Jazz said with a grin, and a murmur of laughter went round the room. "Well I'll do my best, but who am I working with?"

Dr. Gates called up another man. He looked to be in his early 30s, brown-haired and blue-eyed. He wore simple black jeans and a white Polo t-shirt. Lean and well-built, but not muscular.

"Allow me to introduce Dashiel Faireborn." Dr. Gates clapped the man on the shoulder.

"Please, just Dash will do," he said.

Jazz smiled and nodded to him. Then he looked at the others. "So are we done here? 'Cause time's a-wastin' and I'd like to get started on my part of the deal."

"You're dismissed to begin work," Prime said. "If I'm not wrong, the EDC is giving you all access to their files and information so that you will not be hindered."

"He is cleared," Dr. Gates confirmed.

"Well then, guess I'll be on my way." Jazz stood up and quickly left the auditorium, glad to be finally doing something.

"Hey! Wait up!" a voice called, and Jazz turned back to see Dashiel Faireborn running after him. He stopped and waited for the man to catch up. "I'm afraid I didn't get your name."

That sobered Jazz. "Guess I'm not as famous as I thought," he said. "My name's Jazz."

"Ok Jazz. I was thinking that since we'll be working together on this, we could possibly share information."

Jazz looked down at the human. "Listen Dash, I appreciate the help and all, and I'll try to co-operate as best as I can, but I mostly work alone. That way, incase I get careless and screw up, I don't have to worry about someone else getting killed." He noticed the ring the young man wore. "Most of the stuff I do, its all high-risk, and the guilt would eat me alive if I allowed a husband and father to die."

"I appreciate your concern Jazz," Dash said, a little surprised that Jazz had taken that into account. "And yes, I do love my family, but I have a duty to do also. They chose me just like they chose you. I know that you're capable of a lot more than I am, but there are a few things a human can do that an Autobot cant." He looked defiantly back at Jazz.

"Alright, lets make a deal," Jazz said. "We each do what we're good at, and at the end of the day, we'll get together and share information. At the same time, if we need each other's help, we're not gonna hesitate to ask."

"It's a deal," Dash replied. "Though I believe you have the advantage for now. I have no idea where to start looking for clues, but you walked out of there like you already knew where to begin."

"I was gonna go talk to Jonathon Mason," Jazz replied.

"The suspect? Wont do any good. EDC officials have already questioned him and they're not getting any answers out of him."

"Time for the Autobot to get his turn then." Jazz began walking, heading for the prisons area. "You coming or not!" he called back.

Dashiel ran to catch up with him.

* * *

Next: Jazz and Dash search for clues...

Jazz strolled casually, but confidently, up to the guard on duty in the prisons department of the EDC. The guard looked up, recognized him and greeted him with a wave, but cast a suspicious frown at Dashiel.

"Chill Gary, he's with me," Jazz said. "We're investigatin' the leak in the Binaltech Project, and I believe you've got someone back there that we need to talk to."

"We've got a few 'someones', which one did you have in mind?" Gary asked.

"His name's Jonathon Mason," Dash said. "We have to speak with him."

Jazz punctuated Dash's request with a smile of his own. Gary leaned forward and pressed a button, opening the doors behind him.

"Cell 23, and don't be too long."

"Thanks Gary," Jazz said, and led the way inside.

Cell 23 was located at the far end of the passage, away from all the others. Inside the small enclosure, a young man, no older than 27, sat on the lower bunk bed, his blond hair dull and lifeless, his brown eyes downcast.

"Jonathon Mason?" Dash asked. "We'd like to ask you a few questions."

The man looked up at the mention of his name, but the rest of Dash's words went unheard. His eyes were fixed on Jazz. Jazz in turn looked back at him, a curious expression on his face. There was a memory in his mind struggling to come to life.

"I remember you," the man said. "Many years ago, when I was still a child. You threw yourself over me and shielded me from that falling building. You saved my life and I have never forgotten it. Don't you remember? I was terrified, and you kept singing to me till your friends dug us out. I never forgot you." He stood up and came to the bars. "Don't you remember?"

Jazz's memory blossomed into full-blown life. He DID remember. He'd broken from cover, ignoring Prowl's ordersto remain in position, and had flung himself over the child as the building came crashing down. He'd been scared to death that he'd accidentally crushed the kid, but then he heard the boy crying, and despite the weight of the building on top of him, he felt relieved. He recalled curling his fingers around the terrified child and gently holding him, softly singing a few Earth songs he'd only just learnt to comfort him, while the other Autobots worked furiously to dig them out. Ratchet had been ready to unleash unholy wrath upon him when he emerged, but had been forced to swallow his words when Jazz held up the boy.

"Yeah, I remember you," Jazz said.

"Then before you start asking me stupid questions like all the other have been doing, ask yourself: I was saved by an Autobot. Why then would I want to do anything to hurt them?"

"Then why don't you tell me your story, and I'll save my questions till when you're done." Jazz sat down cross-legged on the floor.

"I'm only an assistant," Jonathon said. "Means I just run around getting the doctors, professors and other officials whatever they need. Not really a dream job, but at least I was in the EDC, and at least I was doing something in a small way to fight back the Decepticons. Then two weeks ago, I was summoned to the carpark by a professor I'd never seen before. He wore an EDC clearance pass, so I figured he was just new. All I remember was walking up to his car, seeing the professor and then nothing. Next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground and there was security all around me. Then I wound up here."

"Did you tell the officials this?" Dash asked.

Jonathon gave him a look. "Of course, but by then they'd already seen the tape, which is pretty incriminating, but I swear I don't remember stealing any blueprints. I'd never do anything against the Autobots."

"Can you remember what the professor looked like?" Jazz asked.

"Not in detail. The carpark was not well lit, and he was sitting in a car, which made it darker. He was quite old though, and he had white hair."

"What about the car? Did it seem alive to you?"

"If you mean 'was it a Decepticon?', no. It was just a plain old Buick."

"That's not much to go on," Dash said. "An old man with white hair? Doesn't really narrow it down."

"Nope, but its something," Jazz said.

"Alrighty, you two, time's up!" the guard yelled from the door.

Jazz stood. "Guess that's our cue to haul aft. We'll be back Jon, don't give up on us."

"In the meantime, if you think of anything, call me," Dash said and slipped the other man a scrap of paper with his number on it."

Jonathon gripped the bars. "I didn't do this Jazz, you gotta believe me. Please help me."

"I'll do the best I can Jon, I promise," Jazz replied.

… Dash kept staring at Jazz the entire walk back to the upper levels of the EDC headquarters.

"If you want to ask me somethin', you'd best do it. I ain't no mind-reader," Jazz said.

"You believe that guy? Just because he brought up that story about you two. How do we know he didn't make up everything he told us."

"Don't you believe in 'innocent till proven guilty'?"

"We've got him on tape!"

"Don't mean he's guilty. Tapes can be doctored with. And in a place swarmin' with engineers and scientists, I don't think it'd be too hard to do somethin' like that."

"But he could still be lying."

"Or he could be tellin' the truth, which he was by the way. I ran a scan of him while he was talkin'. He ain't lyin'."

"So what? You got some built-in polygraph or something?"

"Or something. Right now our focus ain't whether Jon did it or not. It should be on that professor who suckered him into doin' his dirty work."

"I can run a check on every guy in the EDC over the age of 50, but we've got a lot of them and it could take some time. Even then, its not guaranteed we'll get another suspect."

"What'll happen to Jon if he's found guilty?"

"He'll be tried for treason I should think, and for jeopardizing something like Binaltech, the penalty for that treason could be life imprisonment, maybe even execution."

"Then he ain't got much time. I'll be slagged if I saved him once only to have him killed by the very people I'm tryin' to help. We gotta buy him some time."

"And how do you propose we do that? We've got nothing but the man's word, and no matter how much you believe him, its not going to be enough to convince the entire EDC."

"Well then, I suggest you get started on those checks you mentioned just now."

"What about you?"

"I got my own research to do."


	3. Getting A Clue

**Getting A Clue**

Jazz was a mech of action. He was also a mech of many words. Couple the two traits together and it was no wonder he was given a division all to himself. Special Operations – the term sounded glamorous, but it was a term that, in Jazz's view, covered a broad range of tasks and personas. Sometimes it led down the high-way, sometimes it led down the by-way. Right now, as he scoured the EDC carpark, he figured he was somewhere in between.

It would have helped him to know exactly in what part of the carpark the encounter took place, but there was no way he could go down and ask Jon again without wasting even more time. Instead, he remained at ground level, presuming that if the guy had wanted to obtain top secret information, he'd want to make as quick a get-away as possible after getting it.

He moved slowly through the carpark, scanning the place with every built-in sensor he had, some of which he knew CSI departments would kill for. Infact, he couldn't help feeling like one of those detectives from the show. 'Gil Grissom, eat your heart out,' he thought. Still, the TV character worked with a team. Jazz was doing this alone. Okay, so he didn't have to be alone, but somehow he couldn't see Dashiel Faireborn crawling around on the ground looking for clues like he was. And since he had no idea what he was looking for, everything was a potential clue. He just hoped he could find something. The encounter had taken place two weeks ago, so any evidence was most likely destroyed between that time and now.

Then, one of his scanners went off. Jazz headed to one of the allocated lots and crouched down in front of an empty spot in between a Mercedes and a BMW – both convertibles. They weren't out of place. The whole carpark was full of expensive luxury and sports cars. His optics searched the area for the source of the alarm, and he soon found it. A tiny piece of metal no bigger than a quarter, and while that was nothing unusual, the Cybertronian energy signature it emitted was. Somehow he doubted an Autobot had been down there. He subspaced it, hoping that Wheeljack and Perceptor would be able to tell him more.

At that point, something else caught his optic. He leaned forward, easily manouvering between the two cars on either side of him, and picked up a scrap of paper that had stuck to a black patch of dried oil. It was a clothing label, and flipping it over, Jazz was able to make out the words 'Made in China'. There was also a tiny snag of white thread that must have gotten caught on the label when the person had ripped the tag off, and thankfully, it had escaped the oil.

As for the oil itself, one sniff told Jazz that it was regular car oil, most likely from the old Buick that Jon had told them about. Jazz stood, frowning. The EDC had to be paying its employees well for them to be able to afford all the expesive cars that he'd seen. So it was quite unlikely that one of them would be driving around in an old, leaky Buick. He stepped back and transformed. There was only one person he could think of that knew anything about street cars. It was time to head down the by-way.

… Jazz felt conspicuous, and he didn't like it. One of his skills was to blend in, not stand out, and right now he stood out like the lone black sheep in a flock of white ones. His white Porsche mode, decorated with its bright red and blue race markings, was drawing far too many suspicious glances from the residents of the neighborhood that people liked to call 'the streets'. The area consisted of mostly middle- to lower-class working Hispanic and African-American people who didn't take kindly to flashy strangers – human or otherwise.

Sure enough, as he drove slowly, looking for the person he had in mind, he was suddenly blocked by a gang of young men, all wielding automatic weaponry. As he stopped and transformed, they circled around to surround him. Jazz raised his hands. He didn't want to take any risks with these guys. The weapons they held could not only do a lot of physical damage, but the bullets also had the potential to nick through wiring and vital fuel lines. The last thing he wanted was to bleed to death out here. Plus there was a high risk of innocents getting hit as well.

"Easy guys, I ain't here to cause you no trouble. I'm just lookin' for a friend," he said.

"Ain't none of us got friends among you robots," one of them said. "All you cause is death and destruction."

If Jazz was Prime, he would have launched into the 'Autobots are good, and we were only trying to protect you' speech. Luckily, he wasn't Prime, and so wisely said nothing of the sort.

"And you guys don't huh? How about when you get into one of those fancy gang wars you guys are famous for? he asked instead. "How many innocent people do you kill in the crossfire?"

"Collateral damage. It was just to bad for them."

"Likewise," Jazz replied. "So we ain't too different after all."

"Man, I ain't gonna take this crap from no robot!" the guy fumed. "What does he know about innocent people? They ain't got no feelings!"

"I know quite a bit actually, especially since I'm riskin' my own skin out here tryin' to save one of 'em and I've got a young hot-head in front o' me, delayin' my progress."

"Seems to me he knows more about innocent people than you do about innocent robots," a familiar voice spoke up from outside the circle. "So back off you guys and leave the mech alone."

Jazz grinned as the crowd parted and a young man came through. "Raoul m'man! Great ta see ya!"

"You too amigo, been a long time."

"Raoul, you know this hunk of scrap?" asked the guy who'd been arguing with Jazz earlier.

"His name is Jazz, and this 'hunk of scrap' and his buddies have saved more lives than you can imagine, mine included," Raoul snapped. "Now beat it guys, my friend and I got some catching up to do."

The gang grudgingly backed off and left the two alone.

"So what's the deal man?" Raoul asked him. "You got a real death-wish coming down here y'know."

"Trust me man, I wouldn't be here if I didn't need your help with a case I'm workin' on."

"You Autobots cant do anything without me huh?"

"Don't flatter yourself kid. Last time I saw ya, you were screamin' for ya mama everytime Tracks did a backflip."

Raoul frowned. "That was a long time ago man. Anyway how is the big, blue guy? Heard he nearly died 'cause of some weird rust infection."

"He's alright now. We managed to save him, gave him an upgraded body and stuff, though he whines everyday that we left out his wings."

"Tell him I'll come by and see him some time. Now, about your problem, what can I do for ya?"

"You seen anyone around here drivin' an old Buick? Maybe one in need of repairs to an oil-leak?" Jazz asked.

"Not personally, but I can ask around. Got a description for this guy?"

"Old guy with white hair. He might come across as a doctor or a professor. I know it ain't much to go one, but anything ya can find out would help."

"This another one of those 'matter of life and death' cases?"

"They're the only ones I get."

"Alright, I'll see what I can get for ya. Check back here in a day or so, and don't worry about the guys. Now that they know you're my friend, they wont give ya any trouble." Raoul turned to go, then stopped and looked back. "I know you 'Bots ain't to popular with most humans, but I'm glad you guys still fight for us."

Jazz smiled. "I'll tell Tracks you said Hi." He transformed and got ready to drive off.

"One more thing," Raoul said. "If you're gonna do the whole snooping around detective thing, you might not wanna look so… flashy."

"Do I look flashy to you guys?" Jazz asked as he walked into the lounge/recreation room that evening.

Hound, Tracks and Bluestreak looked up.

"Is that a trick question?" Tracks asked as he leaned back in his seat, his new dark blue Corvette Z06 body practically gleaming in the overhead light.

Jazz ignored him and looked at Hound. The boxy forest-green Jeep Wrangler only smiled and shrugged. They looked at Bluestreak. After the Cosmic Rust, the gunner had traded in his Datsun alt mode for a brand new, silver Subaru WRX body, and Jazz had to admit it looked stunning on him.

Bluestreak grinned. "Well sure Jazz, I mean that's who you are right? Like the music, all flashy and spotlight-y. Is that even a word? I guess not, but it seems to fit what I'm trying to say, so yeah. You're a bright, happy person, so your colors gotta reflect that."

"Uh thanks Blue, I think."

"So how's your mission going Jazz?" Hound asked. Of all the five Autobots who were rebuilt, Hound was the one who had deviated the least from his original alt mode.

"Slow," Jazz replied. "I ain't got much to work with. Just a tiny chip of metal and a clothing label."

"That's rough, but don't worry, you'll figure something out in the end. You always do."

"I hope so. Oh, and Tracks, Raoul says 'Hi'. Said he'll come by and see you one of these days."

"Raoul? That punk kid still remembers me?" Tracks asked.

"Give the guy some credit Tracks, if I recall, he saved your tailpipe on more than one occasion."

"Two. Just two occassions. Nothing more."

Jazz sat down on a chair with a tired sigh. Bluestreak got up and fetched him a mug of energon from the dispenser.

"Primus bless ya Blue. Thanks." Jazz accepted the mug and all but gulped down its contents.

Bluestreak smiled. "I like you flashy though," he said, almost as an afterthought.

"Yeah, but its not gonna help the mission if people can see me stand out a mile off. Maybe I should ask Binaltech for an upgrade too."

""Funny you should say that," Hound said, as Jazz put down his empty mug and dabbed at the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand. "Chip came in a while ago, and I accidentally overheard them talking about upgrading more Autobots. Yours was one of the names they brought up. I think they're still discussing it down at Conference Room D."

Jazz stood up. "Guess I should go give Prowl my report now. Wouldn't want it to seem like I was taking my time or anything."

Hound and Bluestreak grinned. Tracks rolled his optics. Jazz sauntered out and made his way down to Conference Room D. Pausing only to knock twice on the door, he waltzed in. Prime and Prowl were there as he had expected, as was their human friend Chip and, to his surprise, Smokescreen and… Smokescreen?

"Did someone spike the energon in the lounge again, 'cause I thought I saw two Smokescreens," Jazz said.

"The energon's fine Jazz," said Prime. "We were just discussing Chip's latest advancement."

"Ah, right." Jazz took a seat in one of the empty chairs. "And what would that be?"

"Cloning," Chip said. "Unlike for humans, there are no ethical restrictions placed on Autobots, so Smokescreen volunteered to be my first test subject. Unfortunately I overlooked a few things and the clone didn't come out quite as planned."

"What'd ya mean? They look just like each other."

"But unlike the real Smokescreen, the clone unit is incapable of any sentient functionality. I'm currently working on a way to solve that problem, but it might take a while."

"Take all the time you need Chip," said Prime. "We'll appreciate any advantage you can give us."

"I'll try my best Optimus."

Jazz meanwhile, was scrutinizing the two Smokescreens to see if he could tell the real from the clone. Like Bluestreak, Smokescreen was also given the Binaltech treatment and upgraded to a Subaru as well, only his was the World Rally Championship model – blue with yellow markings. Finally Jazz pointed to the one on the right.

"That's the read deal," he said.

"How did you know?" Prowl asked as Smokescreen grinned.

"The other one ain't got no spark signature."

"That's the problem," said Chip. "We just need to find a way to transfer a little bit of the original's spark signature to the clone unit to give it 'life' so to speak."

"Alright, if I'm not needed here anymore, I'm gonna go put my 'twin' into storage and then head into town," Smokescreen said.

"You can go," said Prime.

Once Smokescreen had gone, the other three looked at Jazz.

"What?" Jazz asked. "Why are y'all lookin' at me like that? Did someone paint me pink while I wasn't lookin'?"

"Speaking of paint," said Prowl. "How long would you say you've had your current alt mode for? Ten, maybe twenty years or so?"

"Somewhere about there. Just as long as you've had yours," Jazz replied, a little guarded.

"Yes, but my job doesn't require me to blend in, so to speak."

"I blend in perfectly fine!" Jazz protested.

"Oh I'm sure you do, with an alt mode that went vintage about a decade ago," Prowl deadpanned.

"Speak for yourself man! You looked in a mirror lately?"

"Like I said, we're not talking about me. I am mostly in my office or on the battlefield, not sneaking into enemy strongholds or pretending to be who I'm not."

"Well thanks for putting my job description into such a nice perspective Prowl."

"I think what Prowl is trying to say is," Prime interrupted before the conversation went down a road they would all regret later. "How would you feel about an upgrade?"

"Be careful what you wish for," Jazz muttered.

"Pardon?" Prime asked.

"Nothing." Jazz shook his head. "Its just that, why me? Ain't there other 'Bots in line? I mean Sunstreaker, for one, could do with a new look."

"I believe Prowl already mentioned the 'blending in' part. To be perfectly honest Jazz, I agree with him. You're far too well noted in your present form. If this mission is to succeed, we have to make sure that you go unrecognized for as long as possible."

Jazz sighed. "Was bound to happen some time. So what am I getting?"

"After the meeting was over," Prowl said. "A representative of one of Japan's top car manufacturers approached us saying that their company would like to contribute to the Binaltech Project on the condition that they got to upgrade you. It appears that Japanese technology has progressed to a great extent, and they have already started building the new body shell with several special abilities that were added with you in mind. They requested that you be the one to receive it."

"Turns out you're really popular in Japan, Jazz," said Chip.

"Who'da guessed it," Jazz replied. "So if I say yes, what happens then?"

"We'll wait till they completely finish their work on your new body, then fly out your spark and personality component to Japan, where it will be installed into the new model," Prime said.

"Whoa, hold on. So you mean that I wont be going there like this? Just my spark and my brain?" Jazz asked. "You're just gonna wrap 'em up and ship 'em off!"

"Something like that, yes," Prowl replied. He couldn't help himself. It wasn't every day that one would find Jazz so flustered about something. He could all but see the other black and white mech's optics narrow.

"Prowl, please," Prime said. "No, Jazz, we're not going to ship you off just like that. Chip will be going with you to keep an eye on you and make sure that the Japanese engineers follow the correct proceedure. Both of you will be taken straight to their headquarters by Skyfire. So there's no need for you to worry Jazz, you'll be in good hands."

"You're what!" Dashiel Faireborn stared at Jazz as if the Autobot had just sprouted large, white, feathery wings and a halo.

"I'm goin' to Japan," Jazz repeated.

The two of them sat inside the computer lab inside EDC Headquarters, going through several files in the EDC database.

"Well you picked a fine time to go on a vacation," Dash replied as he clicked on a file and scrolled through its contents.

"Actually, let me rephrase that. My brain and my spark are going to Japan. My body's stayin' right here."

Dash looked up from the screen and looked back at the Autobot towering behind him. "Not a vacation huh?"

"No, actually I was on vacation before I had to cut it short to come here and work on this case. Didn't think I'd be losing my mind over it though."

The man turned back to the computer. "I don't see how you can joke about something like that."

"What would you rather I do? Cry? Hey man, I'm getting an upgrade, not like I'm gonna be executed."

"Can you trust these people? How do you know they're not luring you there to do just that?"

"Aww, I didn't know you cared about my well-being, but man, you gotta work on your trust issues."

"And if I'm not wrong, and they do kill you, who's gonna take your place? Its not like you have a replacement waiting in the wings."

"Man, again with the whole perspective thing. Have you been talking to Prowl? Look, these guys are for real alright? I'm not gonna die, I'm just gonna get me a new body, that's all. So chill, and lets take a look at what we got on our mysterious professor."

"Absolutely nothing I'm afraid," Dash said. "The EDC has no employee that looks like that. Are you sure your friend gave you the correct information? Two days is a pretty short time to come up with information like that, especially since I've been able to get nothing."

"Now you'll be askin' me if I can trust my friend."

Dash said nothing.

Jazz let out an exasperated sigh. "Look, I trust Raoul. I trust him with my life. He's not the kinda guy who'll turn on ya. According to what he said, an old guy driving an old, brown Buick showed up in his neighborhood to fix an oil leak. He'd been in a mighty hurry to get to the airport."

"Probably had a flight to catch. The question is, to where?" Dash said.

"Well, we gotta find the person before we can find out what plane he took. The Buick's gotta be a rental. Any way we can call up car companies in the area and find out if anyone rented a Buick out to an old man?"

"It could take some time. There's a lot of rental companies."

"Then lets get on it, I'll help ya. Just tap me in to a phone line."

Together they worked the phones for the next few hours, even calling up rental companies in a few of the neighboring states. Finally after a good five hours, Dash put down the phone and leaned back in his chair.

"Tired?" Jazz asked.

"No. I think I may have gotten something," Dash said. "The company I just called said they had rented an old, brown Buick to an elderly man who said his name was Archie Ville." He typed the name into the computer and studied the screen for a moment. "But according to the EDC database, there's no one by that name."

"It could be an alias," Jazz said. "Try calling the airport. Find out if anyone by that name purchased an air ticket within the last month, and if so, to where."

Dash turned back to the phone again and called the airport. After a short and stiff exchange of words, he hung up with a frown. "They say they're not allowed to disclose passenger information, EDC or not."

"Alright, let me have a go." Jazz dialled in. "Hello there, this is Autobot Jazz speaking. To whom do I have the pleasure of talking to today?" he asked, pouring on the charm. "Rachel? A pretty name for a pretty lady I'm sure."

Dash rolled his eyes, but remained silent.

"Listen Rachel, I'm in the middle of a very important mission right now, and I'd appreciate any help you could give me. Now, I understand its confidential, but I need to know where a certain passenger was headed. Y'see, he stole some stuff, and if he gets it into the wrong hands, a lot of people might get hurt. I wanna try and prevent that from happening."

Jazz fell silent as he listened to the voice on the other end. Dash looked at him expectantly.

"I wouldn't be askin' if it werent a matter of life and death darlin'," Jazz went on smoothly. "Yeah, I have his name, why don't I spell it out for ya, make your job a little easier." He proceeded to do that.

There was another pause as they waited for Rachel to do whatever she was doing.

"Whats that?" Jazz asked, after several minutes had passed. "Alright, that works. Thank you very much for your time Rachel. If you get into trouble for this, don't you worry that sweet head o' yours, you just direct 'em to me, I'll take care of it. You take care now, goodbye."

"You are unbelievable," Dash said when Jazz hung up at last. "Just make sure you stay away from my wife."

"Y'just gotta say what ya mean, and mean what ya say. Everyone likes to feel appreciated, and a little honesty never hurt anyone."

"I'll remember that. Now what did you find out?"

"Well, there ain't no Archie Ville, but she did tell me that a certain Mr. Arthur Villie boarded a Cathay Pacific flight headed for the Far East, in particular, the Chinese capital of Beijing."

"The names sound similar enough," Dash said. "And that clothing label you found said 'Made In China'. I don't think it's a coincidence."

"Neither do I. And I have a feeling 'Arthur Villie' ain't his real name either."

"So we have a suspect with no real name, who is no longer in this country, and is now lost within the one billion people of China. Where does that leave us?"

"I ain't got the slightest idea."


	4. Down And Out

**Down And Out**

Jazz decided to give up on their suspect for the day, and told Dashiel to go back home and spend some time with his wife and daughter. In the meantime, he decided to head back to Autobot City and check in with Perceptor to see what the scientist had found out about the tiny piece of Cybertronian metal. He would have liked a rest, but with the trip to Japan on the horizon, he couldn't afford to waste the time. As soon as he arrived, he headed straight down to the lab.

"Ah Jazz, there you are." Perceptor transformed from microscope to robot mode. "I analyzed the two samples you gave me. The thread is of a certain type of polyester most commonly found in garments made in China."

"Right, that backs up the information the airport gave us about the possible location of the professor. Any idea what part of China that type o' fabric comes from?"

"One of the esters used in the synthetic make up of this fabric can be found in the northern provinces such as the Beijing, Hebei and Shanxi provinces, but I would not get your hopes up if I were you. The factories producing such garments may be found in the north, but the garments themselves are sold freely throughout all of China and even exported to other parts of Asia. So there is a possibility that your mysterious professor could have purchased his… lab coat, we assume?... from as far south as Shanghi or Guangzhou, or possibly even Hong Kong or Singapore. There's no way to tell for sure."

"What about the metal?" Jazz asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. It just seemed like everytime he felt he was making progress, something would come along and throw a few speed-bumps in his path.

Perceptor brightened considerably at that and Jazz didn't know whether to feel excitement or dread.

"It IS Cybertronian metal," he said. "Whats more, it is also all too familiar." The Scientist's expression darkened somewhat. "You remember Bombshell?"

Jazz snorted. Remember Bombshell? How could he ever forget that pesky, robotic bug and his two Insecticon sidekicks. At the same time, his face took on a 'don't tell me' look. He looked at the tiny piece of metal in Perceptor's hand. "Its that what I think it is?"

"A part of it, yes. One of Bombshell's cerebro-shells."

Jazz's face twisted into a look of disgust. "He's using them on HUMANS now!"

"It appears so, yes," Perceptor said, a little absently as he studied the chip again.

"But how? Human brains ain't like our brains. One of those things goes into a human skull, it could kill 'em."

"Indeed, yes. One of these fired into a human brain could prove fatal. However, while much of the energy signature emitted IS Cybertronian, there is a small amount of Earth alloy residue also. Therefore, it is likely that the cerebro-shell was attached to something man-made, that then adhered to the victim's skin and sent out electron pulses to the person's brain, rather than the shell being implanted in the brain itself."

"How can you be so sure?" Jazz asked.

"There was a literal microscopic droplet of blood on the fragment of metal."

"Do we know whose blood it is?"

"I will extract the DNA and run it through the database tonight. You'll have your confirmation in the morning, because I can see you already have a vague idea of who the blood belongs to."

"Yup. Check it against Jonathon Mason's DNA and let me know the results as soon as you get them."

"I will. Now if I might advise you as a friend, Jazz, go and get some rest. You've done all you can for one night. It will not help your mission if you are unable to perform at optimum condition."

"Think I'll go do that. Thanks Perceptor."

"Anytime Jazz."

The black and white mech left the lab and made his way down to the lounge for an energon ration. After filling a mug for himself, he sat down on a vacant couch and tried to follow some of the conversations going on around him. The Twins were there, looking considerably happier together than they had been a few weeks before. Hound was showing off a few holograms, while Bluestreak chatted to anyone who cared to listen to him. By the time Jazz finished his energon and set the mug down, he was starting to feel incredibly drowsy, and without meaning to, he soon dosed off, arms folded across his chest, head resting on the back of the couch.

… "Jazz? Jazz." A voice called out to him. "Jazz, wake up."

Someone shook him firmly, but gently, and he slowly pulled himself out of the hazy recharge he had fallen into. As his vision sharpened, he realized it was none other than Ratchet bending over him. He straightened himself in a hurry.

"Oh, hey Ratchet," he said. "Sorry, must have dosed off there for a bit."

"A bit?" the Chief Medical Officer raised an optic ridge. "Try about 9 hours. You slept all night."

A quick check with his chronometer said this was true. It was morning. Jazz looked around him. The lounge was quiet and most of the lights had switched to their softer 'day-mode' settings. A lot of the occupants that had been there earlier were gone too, all save the Twins who stood a little way behind Ratchet. Sideswipe had a sympathetic smile on his face, and even Sunstreaker had an expression of understanding. Jazz looked back to Ratchet with a sheepish grin.

"Care to explain why you decided to take a little trip to dreamland in here instead of in your room?" Ratchet asked.

"Eh, I didn't plan to. Energon made me drowsy. If one of the guys had woken me up, I would've hauled aft back to my own recharge berth."

"The energon didn't do slag because you were exhausted to begin with. You were sleeping so soundly, none of the others wanted to wake you up. Bless their little sparks, but most of them seem to like you, so they wanted to make sure you got some solid, unbroken recharge. These two even thought of carrying you back to your room, but eventually decided not to move you and slept in here instead, to make sure nothing or no one disturbed you during the night."

Jazz was touched. He looked at the Twins. "Aw guys, y'all didn't have to, ya know. Shoulda woken me up. Not meanin' to sound ungrateful or anythin', I'm not, but why'd ya do it?"

Sideswipe shrugged. "We know you've been working real hard on this whole Binaltech mission, so we just wanted you to rest well. The way you just passed out on the couch like that was proof enough."

"Besides," Sunstreaker added. "If we'd woken you up, you'd have just gone and started working on the case again."

"Well, now that you two have done your good deed for the day, get your spoilers down to Prowl's office for your day's duties," Ratchet snapped. He sat down on the couch beside the black and white once the Brothers were gone. "So? Do you want to tell me something, or am I going to have to beat it out of you?"

Jazz reached under his visor and rubbed his optics, attempting to wipe away the last few smears of sleep that still clung to them. "What're you talkin' about?"

"You know slagging well what I'm talking about. Why the sudden rush? You've barely been back five days and already you're speeding through everything like a sodding express train. Whats the big hurry? I don't recall the EDC giving you a 'Best Before' date."

"I just don't wanna delay anything, that's all. Y'know, incase something goes wrong."

Ratchet gave him a hard look. "We're not talking about the mission anymore are we?"

Jazz didn't answer.

The medic placed a hand on his shoulder. "Is this about your Binaltech upgrade?"

"You ever had this feelin'?" he asked. "Where, when you don't have somethin', and a few of your friends have it, you find yourself wanting it? And when your turn comes, and that somethin' is finally given to you, you take one look at it and suddenly its like you're not sure whether you want it anymore, because you're scared of it, or at the very least nervous about it, but you've got no choice but to take it now since its here."

"Jazz, its ok to be afraid. All the other guys before you, they were all afraid. Bluestreak kept babbling nonstop till we were finally forced to shut off his vocalizer so we could concentrate on the transferance."

"See that's the thing. All the others were upgraded here. You and Wheeljack were around to help the human docs incase anything happened. I'm goin' to Japan." He stopped for a second. "What if something happens over there? Not to discredit the Japanese engineers or anything, but what if something happens during the transfer that they don't know how to handle? I'm not afraid to die Ratchet, but what if they LOSE me? What happens if my brain gets erased?"

"I think you're getting a little paranoid," Ratchet said. "Don't forget Chip's going with you, and he's the one who started all this Binaltech madness."

"What if something else happens? Non-technical. How am I going to protect Chip or anyone else when I'm just a brain and a spark?"

"Alright, that's IT! No more hanging around Red Alert. Jazz, listen to me, nothing bad is going to happen. You're not as alone in this as you think. Now, don't go all Sunstreaker on me for telling you this, but you're indispensible. Prime and Prowl have taken every possible measure to ensure your safety throughout the whole ordeal, because Primus forbid, if you get slagged, our collective tailpipes are pretty much cooked, since you're the only damn Special Operatives Agent we fragging have."

It was one of those rare moments where Jazz couldn't find anything to say in response. Ratchet's words were reassuring, yes, and they did allevate some of his fears, but there was one nagging thought left.

"There's something more isnt there?" Ratchet asked, as if he sensed what Jazz was thinking.

Jazz nodded. "This is gonna sound crazy, and you're probably gonna laugh, but… will the whole change affect my voice?"

If Ratchet found it even remotely funny, he at least kept a straight face in front of Jazz, but the medic knew there was nothing amusing about what Jazz had said. Jazz's voice was unique. He didn't just have an accent, his voice had a melodic, almost musical sound to it, that was the very embodiment of who Jazz was. And Ratchet knew that if they lost even one fragment of Jazz's voice, if it was altered in the slightest way, they would lose Jazz. The Autobots couldn't afford to lose Jazz.

"I should think not," Ratchet tried to assure him. "The others' voices don't seem to have changed. All the same, if it'll make you feel better, I'll give Chip a copy of your vocal schematics just in case."

"Thanks Doc."

"Don't mention it…. Now, word from Prime's office is that you're set to leave for Japan in three days' time. Therefore I am ordering you to take today off and get some rest. You have plenty of time to work on your mission over the next couple of days." He held up a hand. "Don't even try to to argue with me on that one."

"But Dash - ."

"If Dashiel Faireborn has a problem with that, he can direct all complaints to my shiny, red skidplate. You are going to rest today because I do not want to see you passed out again like that, ever. Do I make myself clear?"

"Clear as crystal, Doc," Jazz replied.

"Good. Now go, scoot. Take some time to enjoy the sunshine and roses while you still can, I'll go handle our friend Dash."

The medic stood up and strode purposefully out of the lounge. Jazz, for one, hoped that Dashiel had enough intelligence to surrender quickly and painlessly to the Autobot CMO.

xxxxx

Dashiel stared defiantly back ay the large, white and red Chief Medical Officer towering before him, and while Ratchet was not about to take sauce from a human, he had to give the man credit for guts. The guy was attempting to stare down, so to speak, a being more than five times his size.

"I gave Jazz the day off," Ratchet told him matter-of-factly.

"A day we could have used to work on the mission, a day we could have used to help get an 'innocent' man out of prison," Dash argued.

"I am not about to risk the health and sanity of one of my most valuable Autobots over some mission, I don't care how slagging important it is." Ratchet's frown deepened. "And as for the guy in prison, might I remind you that the EDC were the ones who put him there in the first place."

"I had nothing to do with that. It doesn't really matter to me, because as far as I'm concerned, he's guilty, but Jazz seems to think otherwise."

"If he does, he's probably got a good reason to."

"All the more reason we should be working harder to prove it. C'mon, its not like Jazz was terribly injured or anything. He seemed fine when I last talked to him."

"You obviously don't know Jazz as well as you like to think," Ratchet snapped. "There's a lot that goes on behind that blue visor of his that he will never tell you, unless you get close enough to him to find out. To do that you have to trust him, he has to believe that you trust him, otherwise he'll never trust you."

"Well of course I trust him. He's my partner."

"Do you, really?"

"Why else would I be working with him?"

"Then stop doubting him."

Dash and Ratchet exchanged a heated glare, during which time Jazz came strolling out as if he didn't have a care in the world. The little tune he had been whistling died on his lips when he saw the two.

"Wow. Whole lotta love in this room," he said. "Ratch, I still gotta work with this guy so can ya maybe fry him after we're through with the mission? Dash, if you're gonna keep provoking the Doc, I ain't gonna help ya." He transformed and opened the front passenger door. "Get in Dash, we've got an innocent to save. I'll fill ya in on the way to the EDC." He shut the door after the man was in. "Catch ya later Ratchet!" Jazz sped off before the medic could respond.

… As they drove down the highway that led from Autobot City to the EDC, Jazz filled Dash in on what Perceptor had found out about the clothing label, and the piece of metal with the blood on it."

"The blood belongs to Jonathon Mason," Jazz said. "So you and I were both kinda right. He did steal the blueprints, but only because someone else was controlling him."

"Someone who's also working with the Decepticons," Dash said.

"So you think we got enough evidence to delay Jon's trial, and maybe get him outta prison?"

"I think we've got a good case." Dash rested his elbow on the bottom edge of Jazz's window frame. "And I'm sorry I doubted you."

"S'alright. It pays ta be a li'l suspicious now and then. That's why Prime still keeps Red Alert around," Jazz chuckled. "And don't mind Ratchet. The ol' doc means well."

"Well, he's certainly fond of you, no doubt."

"Yeah, dunno what I did to deserve it though."

Jazz stopped at the EDC's outer perimeter security barrier and rolled down a window as the guard came up.

"Autobot Jazz and Dashiel Faireborn reporting," Dash said. "I believe we have clearance?"

"You do indeed Sir, and welcome."

The guard waved them past the barrier and they headed to the main entrance. There, Jazz let Dash out and then reverted to robot form. Then they entered together.

"So who do we talk to?" Jazz asked as they walked down the hallway.

Dash gave him a wry, long-suffering smile as they stepped into the elevator that took them up to the elite floor of the EDC.

"Lets go see dear old Dad."

… Nathaniel Faireborn looked up from his black, mahogany desk as the doors to his executive office burst open and his son walked in, striding purposefully across the plush, black, carpeted floor. Behind him came an Autobot, black and white in color, with bright red and blue racing stripes, and a light blue visor across his eyes – or optics as the robots called them. Nathaniel's secretary straightened herself and glared at the intruders.

"Shall I call for security, Sir?" she asked.

"No need. I'm sure my 'son' has a reason for barging into my office unannounced and uninvited," said Nathaniel. "He'd better."

"We need to talk," Dash said, ignoring the older man's comments. He wasn't about to look hurt in front of his father. "In private." He cast an equally heated glare at the woman.

Nathaniel turned to her. "You can go."

The secretary strode smoothly across the room, and Jazz could picture layers of ice forming under her feet with every step of her 3-inch heels. She scowled at Dash, then turned her gaze onto him. Jazz smiled and nodded inspite of himself, but she narrowed her eyes almost suspiciously. It suddenly occurred to him that she was scrutinizing him, as if trying to make a mental memo of him. He could only wonder what for. When she finally stepped out of the room he let out a breath of relief. There was a click from behind him that told him she had shut the door, but his sharper-than-average audios picked up an almost inaudible second click. Jazz's guard went up a notch.

"Courtney Leigh," Nathaniel said, leaning back in his plush leather chair. "She's quite adept at getting rid of unwanted visitors." He looked at Dash. "I thought I told you that after I got you into the EDC I didn't want to see your face anywhere near me. Just because I'm your father does not mean I'm going to do favors for you."

"I'm not here for your favors," Dash replied. "You may have gotten me into the EDC, but I worked my way up without any help from you, so don't flatter yourself."

Jazz watched the exchange between father and son rather uncomfortably and wished that he didn't have to be a witness to it. It was one of the oldest feuds in history, he knew. Fathers doing everything in their power to make sure their sons grew up like them; sons doing everything in their power to make sure they would be nothing like their fathers. He shifted uneasily. His slight movement seemed to break the tension.

Nathaniel gestured to the chair opposite him. "Sit down and tell me what you need."

Dashiel sat and began to tell him about their mission and what they had found out regarding Jonathon Mason. Jazz stood ignored for the moment, and he was content with that. He had other things on his mind anyway. He took a moment to observe Nathaniel Faireborn. The man was one of the founders of the EDC, and while Jazz had heard of him, this was the first time he was meeting him in person. In a lot of ways, he was like Dash – stern, proud, strong – with dark hair and the same blue eyes of his son. In a lot of ways, he was different; and it was over these differences that the two clashed.

He wondered what it was like, that whole family dynamic of fathers and sons – to be able to share part of your life's experiences, to teach, to train, and pass on knowledge, with someone that was a part of you.

"Earth to Jazz!" Dash called. "Are you still with us?"

Jazz snapped out of his musings. "Right here man. Sorry, just took a quick trip to another zone and back."

"Its quite alright," Nathaniel said. "If anything, we should apologize for leaving you out of our discussion. After all, it is you Autobots who are doing us the favor."

"Ah, no worries," Jazz said, seeing Dash seething in silence. "So what did you want me for Dash?"

"Do you have the lab reports with the DNA confirmation?" Dash asked. "You did remember to bring them right?"

"Ah, yup. Got 'em right here." Jazz summoned a datapad, strolled forward and placed it on the desk in front of Nathaniel. Then he stepped back.

Nathaniel quickly skimmed through its contents. Jazz and Dash exchanged a look, and Dash shrugged. They could only wait till the older man was finished.

"Well this certainly changes things a bit," Nathaniel looked up and said. "If Mason was being controlled by the Decepticons, he can hardly be guilty now can he?"

"So he's free to go?" Jazz asked.

"Its not that simple I'm afraid. There's a lot of red tape to cut through, but his trial will most definitely be postponed. This professor of yours sounds familiar however. I recall we had someone similar in name and description, who used to work here in the EDC. Dr. Archeville was his name."

"That's good enough." Dash stood up. "Lets go Jazz." He began walking to where the Autobot was.

"Dashiel," his father called. The son stopped and glanced back. "Make me proud."

"C'mon," Dash muttered to Jazz. "Before he starts with one of his speeches."

Jazz opened the door and stepped out in time to see Courtney run for the elevators. She quickly stepped into one and pressed the close-door button. Jazz frowned. Now what was up with her? He recalled the second click he heard on the door, and the way she had looked at him. He got an uneasy feeling in the pit of his storage banks.

"Lets take the quickest way down to the prisons," he told Dash. "There are some people around here I don't trust anymore than you do."

When they reached the prisons, Jazz opted to wait outside, sending Dash on alone. A quick check with Gary the prison guard let him know that no one had come by before them. That was all Jazz needed to hear. Not five minutes had gone by since Dash went in, when Jazz heard the steady staccato rhythm of heels on concrete. Rather than stand there and wait for the person to come to him, he decided to go out and intercept the visitor.

Courtney Leigh gasped and took a step back as two large robotic feet blocked her way. She looked up into Jazz's visor.

"Hey there," he said. "Now what's a pretty lady like you doing hanging around the prisons department?"

"Taking care of business," she replied icily.

"Business that includes Jonathon Mason?" Jazz crossed his arms. "Y'know its not very polite to eavesdrop on family conversations. That is what you were doing right?"

"You'll never stop me."

"Listen girl, you've got no idea 'bout what you're getting involved with here. You're puttin' your life in danger. So why don't you just give me the recordin' device and I wont say nothin' to your boss, if ya promise to stay outta this whole mess."

The woman looked like she was considering the offer, and reached inside the fold of her jacket. Jazz knelt down, ready to accept the recorder. So he was caught completely by surprise when she pulled out a Cybertronian-looking weapon and shot him point-blank. He fell back and hit the ground, his body convulsing as surges of current washed over his circuitry, rendering them inactive.

"I'll give it up over my dead body," she sneered, before running off. The Autobot's cry of pain would soon attract attention.

Jazz didn't hear her. His systems were in far too much agony to register much around him. Though just before he slipped into blissful unconsciousness, he realized that there was only one mech who packed that type of firepower.

Starscream.

xxxxx

Author's Notes...

First off, thanks to all for the reviews... much appreciated.

Tirya... you can find all the pics of the BT/Alts over at binalternators(dot)com.

Rift... i started writing this fic before Grimlock was released so the timeline for this is mainly upto BT-08, with small references to upcoming BTs here and there. Plus i wrote this to be a mainly Jazz-centric fic.. not to mention that with the direction this is going, you'd see that the Mustang would be way to conspicuous considering what happens to Jazz next..


	5. Stuck In A Moment

**A/N: **Terribly sorry for the long wait... Was unfortunately blindsided by real-life and a few other o/c short-fics, here's the next chapter however, hope you enjoy it!

**Stuck In A Moment**

:There's a lot of red tape to cut through, but his trial will most definitely be postponed. This professor of yours sounds familiar however. I recall we had someone similar in name and description, who used to work here in the EDC. Dr. Archeville was his name.:

"You blithering idiot!" Starscream hurled the recorder at the deceptively old professor. "Thanks to your bungling, the Alliance has a lead on us! I ought to vaporise you for that alone!"

The professor ducked and the device smashed to pieces against the wall. "Be careful Starscream, I am the only one who understands the EDC's blueprints. Without me, your little project will never get off the ground, no matter how much funding you get from the other two."

"Don't flatter yourself Doctor." Starscream narrowed his optics. "I can always replace you whenever I wish." He turned to the other human. "What of the Autobot?"

Courtney Leigh straightened. "I took care of him. He shouldn't cause us anymore problems."

"Was he dead when you left him?"

The woman shifted. "He was still alive."

"Then you didn't take care of him." Starscream's voice was cold. "And what's more, you let him take a good look at you. There's no way you'll ever be able to get back into the EDC."

"I only did what you told me to do. I got the information you wanted didn't I?"

"Oh yes, therefore consider yourself released from my services."

Starscream opened fire. The woman didn't even have time to scream before she was reduced to a mound of dust. Dr. Archeville looked on nonchalantly.

"I don't see why you're so worried," he said. "He is only one Autobot."

"Exactly," Starscream replied. "That one Autobot has managed to successfully sabotage every Decepticon mission he's been assigned to. It will take more than a single blast from a null ray to keep him down. If we don't get Jazz out of the picture, this project is as good as scrap metal."

"Well then, why not just kill him outright?"

"Your stupidity amazes me Doctor. If he was that easy to kill, I would have done it a long time ago. Jazz is far too intelligent to fall for a threat to his own life."

"He must have a weakness somewhere."

"He does, and I intend to use that to my advantage." The Decepticon stepped out of the old warehouse and transformed to his jet mode. "Get in. We're going back to the mansion."

"The mansion? But its so cold and lonely up there."

"Funny, I didn't know you were the socializing type," Starscream said sarcastically. "But I'm afraid I need you to tell our esteemed Lord Chumleigh to prepare for the arrival of a new 'guest'. I'm sure I can count on you not to mess THAT up."

"Of course, of course, but what are you going to do?"

"Why, arrange a pick-up and escort for our new guest. Its going to be a blast. Just make sure that at least one receipient of the project is up and running by the time I get back."

"As you wish Starscream. Is there anything else you'd like me to do?" Archeville sniped.

"Well, since you asked, tell that idiot Sean Berger to summon the dear Baron and General. I have a task for them too."

Starscream let out a diabolical laugh as he took to the air.

* * *

Jazz groaned. "Remind me not to go on another all-night bender."

He couldn't recall ever feeling so drained. His body felt stiff and parts of it refused to respond to his commands for them to move, as he drifted back into the land of consciousness. His optics came online with a brief glow and he found himself looking into bright lights and an orange ceiling. Autobot City. The Med Bay.

"I'm sorry Ratchet. You can blame the pretty lady I was talkin' to," he said.

"What are you babbling about?" the medic bent over him.

Jazz tried to sit up, only to have Ratchet quickly stretch out his arms and hold him down.

"Hey! What gives Doc?"

"Your body Jazz. Half your circuitry is fused and the rest of it has decided to remain comatose. In case you've forgotten, you took a null-ray blast point-blank in the chest. Tell me Jazz, are your attempts at chivalry an underhanded plot to make me go mad with worry?"

"I was just tryin' ta help her. Didn't think she'd pull a gun on me. What would you have done?"

Ratchet sighed and stepped back. "Probably the same thing."

"Didn't think I'd fail either."

"Jazz, don't go there. You gave her a choice, she chose. Whatever happens to her next, its not in your hands any longer. You're not going to beat yourself up about it."

Jazz's face was unreadable, and once again Ratchet found himself wishing that he could see past that visor, though he knew from years of experience with the mech that the black and white was probably still kicking himself. Jazz LOATHED failure, especially when he was the one doing the failing, mainly because he failed so rarely. He was just not used to it.

"How'd I get here?" Jazz asked. "Last thing I remember was me putting a whole lotta new cracks in the ground."

"The prison guard heard you cry out. He and Dash found you lying on the ground, and you were not responding at all. They immediately contacted Prime."

"And Dash? Where is he? Is he alright?"

"Why Jazz, I didn't know you cared about my well-being," Dash said from the doors.

Jazz turned his head, trying to get a look at him. "Sure I do, 'cause if you get slagged, where the heck am I gonna find a new partner as uptight as you?"

"Try my dad," Dash replied as Ratchet helped him onto a neighboring med-table. He looked at the medic. "How's he doing?"

"Well, he's talking, so at least he's not gonna die, but it'll be some time before I can get him back on his feet."

"What!" Jazz and Dash exclaimed in unison.

"But the mission," said Jazz.

"How long?" asked Dash.

"Hard to say," Ratchet replied. "We've all gotten hit with null-rays, but always from a distance, so the effects werent quite so severe. Jazz took a point-blank hit, and the damage… its just a mess in there right now. Lots of systems inactive."

"So he's kind of paralyzed?"

"Something like that, yes."

"Slaggit," Jazz muttered. "Ain't there nothing you can do Doc?"

"Not in less than a week."

At this point, Optimus Prime came in. "How is he Ratchet?"

"Why does everyone keep askin' that?" Jazz snapped. "I mean, do I look ok? My systems've gone all 'Sleeping Beauty' on me and I've gotta lie here doin' slag-all while Starscream and his goons are runnin' around out there messin' with people's lives. How do ya THINK I feel!"

The other three were a little stunned. It was extremely rare that Jazz ever got angry at anyone or anything.

"I'm sorry Jazz," Prime said. "I didn't mean to upset you."

Jazz shook his head slightly. "Nah, I'm sorry for blowin' up like that. Just hate lyin' around when I should be up doin' my job." The anger at his predicament was starting to drain out of him, leaving his mind clear to think again.

The others stood silently in the medbay unsure of what to say to him, unsure of what to do next. Jazz tried to touch Ratchet's hand when he remembered that he couldn't move his arm. He all but growled in frustration.

"Call Chip," he said aloud. "Tell him to meet us here in a few hours, and pack for a short trip. And ask Skyfire if he wouldn't mind doin' ol' Jazz a favor on short notice. We're leavin' for Japan tonight." He looked Ratchet in the optics. "How'd you feel about some neuro-cardio surgery Doc?"

"Jazz, are you sure about this?" Prime asked, the graveness in his voice mirroring the expression on his face.

"Look Prime, I can go get my upgrade now, be back on my feet in a few days and get on with the mission. Or, I can wait a few weeks till Ratchet fixes me up, THEN go get my upgrade, be back on my feet in a few days and get on with the mission. Pardon me if I choose to go with option one." Jazz offered his leader a reassuring grin. "Besides, its not like you can put someone else on the case."

"I'll go make the calls," Prime said. "Ratchet, take care of him."

"Not like I have a choice," Ratchet grumbled as he busied himself in getting out the necessary tools.

"Look on the bright side Doc," Jazz said. "With most of my circuits in Rip Van Winkle mode, this should be a piece of oil-cake for you."

Ratchet held up a handful of tools. "Well then, prepare yourself."

* * *

Dash watched in awe and silence as Ratchet worked on Jazz's now deactivated body. He also saw the complete trust that Jazz had in the medic. The black and white mech had shut down without a fuss, eventhough he knew that one little slip up by Ratchet could very well kill him, yet here he was, trusting his very essence to the care of others. Not only Ratchet, but to Chip, Skyfire, the Japanese engineers. Jazz trusted so freely that it was no wonder that others reciprocated. Dash saw now that Jazz was very popular amongst his fellow Autobots.

In the last one hour, no less than five Autobots had come down to the medbay to check on their friend. The more notable were the Twins – Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. According to Ratchet, the two were quite fond of Jazz, though they would never openly admit it. The medic had unceremoniously tossed them out after five minutes, shouting out a string of oaths and curses at them, before slamming the doors shut.

Ratchet, Dash realized, had a bark that was worse than his bite. He swore freely and openly, not caring in the least about who was on the receiving end, be it Prime, a patient, or anyone else. Yet, when it came down to the actual work, the medic had an incredibly gentle hand, trying his hardest to cause his charge as little pain as possible. It was apparent in the way he now worked on Jazz. In his current state of shutdown, Jazz was incapable of feeling anything, but that didn't stop Ratchet from handling him as if he was a delicate baby. Even now as the medic worked, Dash could see the care and concern etched on his face.

Finally Ratchet straightened and reached for a small, padded, metal box. Then he detached something from Jazz's head, placed it in the box and connected it to a few wires inside it. Next, he moved to Jazz's chest area and pulled out a panel, several wires and some metal plating. All at once a small glow lit up the room.

Dash moved to take a closer look. "What is that light?"

Ratchet ticked an optic in his direction, a faint shadow of a smile on his face. "Jazz's spark." He lifted the source of the light from the mech's body and brought it over to show Dash.

The man leaned in to look and saw Ratchet's hands cupped protectively around a small, glowing orb, within which a multitude of colors seemed to swirl and dance as if in a joyous celebration of just being. Dash couldn't help but smile, and when he looked up, he saw Ratchet looking at the orb and smiling as well.

"Just like Jazz," the medic murmured.

"So every spark is different?" Dash asked.

"As different as every Autobot. This spark is unique to him, containing everything he is. It's the very essence of Jazz himself. Without it, he wouldn't be the 'Bot he is."

"Are all sparks as beautiful as this?"

Ratchet shook his head. "No. Some are just downright plain. Others are creepy-looking. Jazz's is one of the nicest out there, and certainly unique, just like the mech himself." Ratchet went over to the box and gently placed the spark insid, then closed the lid and placed his hand – almost protectively – on it. "I just hope we're doing the right thing." There came a knock on the doors. "What!" he snapped loudly.

"We're ready to go," Prime called from outside.

Ratchet picked up the box containing Jazz's spark and brain, then unlocked the medbay doors. Prime was waiting outside with Chip and Skyfire. Dash hopped off the table as Ratchet handed the box to the other human.

"Alright, lets get this show on the road," Prime said.

As they walked, Dash fell into step beside Chip.

"I never figured out how you got so involved with the Autobots," Dash said. "I mean, its not like they're close to just any humans, yet they seem to trust you enough with one of their own."

"We go back a long way," Chip said. "Besides, thanks to their technology I'm able to walk again. Before, I was stuck in a wheelchair. Now, I just strap on a light-framed exo-skeleton and I can walk, run, jump, swim, climb a tree… I'm grateful to them."

They reached the exit that opened onto the landing docks and stepped out. Skyfire transformed and opened a hatch for Chip to enter. Before he did, Dash caught his arm and stopped him. He gestured to the box.

"My partner's in there," he said. "Take good care of him alright?"

"I'll guard him with my life, I promise," Chip replied, and stepped inside.

Skyfire closed the hatch, fired up his engines and took off. It wasn't long before the white jet disappeared from the darkening horizon.


	6. Human Influence

**Human Influence**

Dash could not sleep. He tossed and turned in bed in a desperate attempt to fall asleep, until even his ever-patient wife told him to either settle down or go sleep on the couch. Finally, at almost four in the morning, he gave up. He got out of bed as quietly as possible, dressed, left a note on the fridge for his wife, then went out to his car. The sky was pitch black, with neither moon nor star visibly through the clouds. This was the hour just before the dawn.

It felt strange having to slide behind the wheel of a car that actually had to be driven. He'd been getting used to riding with Jazz and a few of the other Autobots, and when his own car did not talk back to him, he realized he kinda missed Jazz. The Autobot was a good mech, who did his job in such a way that he was in and out before anyone knew what had just happened. And he was just plain nice. That was why he couldn't sleep, he realized, as he started his car and pulled out onto the road. He was worried about Jazz. It had been almost two days since Skyfire had flown for Japan, and he hadnt received any news on the welfare of his partner. It was just about driving him nuts.

Without meaning to, Dash turned onto the highway that would take him to Autobot City, though he had no idea what he was going to say to them. They were Autobots after all, and though the few he had met were fairly nice, why would they be inclined to share information with a human? He shook his head and stared into the darkness beyond his car's headlights. This was the same untrusting attitude Jazz had warned him about. He'd been trying to curb it, but now with Jazz gone, it was all threatening to come back.

A horn blared out just before Dash made out the vague shape of another car, in the on-coming direction, swerve sharply before skidding to a dusty stop by the side of the road. Dash slammed on his own brakes, jumped out and went to check on the other vehicle.

"Hello? Are you alright!" he called out.

He reached the other car – a silver Subaru WRX with no driver. Had to be an Autobot. When there was no response, Dash gently touched the hood. The car gave a quick lurch forward, as if it had been startled.

"Huh? Oh! Sorry! Kinda zoned out there for a moment. Been doing that a lot these days. Actually, I've been doing that a lot, period. I don't mean to, it just happens, and sometimes it happens at the most inappropriate moments, like now. I'm sorry. Are you alright?"

Dash blinked. "Y-yeah, I'm fine. I just came over to see if you were alright."

"Oh… yeah, I'm fine too. Just a bit dusty, and maybe I got a scratch or two here and there, but I'm not Tracks or Sunstreaker so they don't really bother me much. I'm Bluestreak by the way."

"Dashiel Faireborn."

Bluestreak's headlights flashed on and off. "You're the guy Jazz works with!"

"Uh… yeah. And since your headlights do work, may I ask why you werent using them? You do know its dangerous to drive in the dark right?"

"Heh, well I didn't really expect anyone else to be out on this highway at this time." He sounded rather sheepish. "Uh oh. You're not gonna mention this to Prowl are you?"

"Well, I guess since no one really got hurt, I don't have to say anything, but next time please use your headlights."

"Ooh yeah. Thanks. I owe ya. What are you doing on Autobot highway at this time anyway?"

"I was coming to talk to someone – Prime, Prowl, whoever's in charge or awake right now."

"Ah, well why don't I keep ya company then? Help you get in and stuff."

"That would be great."

"Cool, follow me."

Dash got back into his car while Bluestreak turned himself around. The sky began to lighten as the two drove back to Autobot City. Even at that early hour, Dash saw that there were mechs up and about, seeing to various tasks and duties. Bluestreak showed Dash a place to park, and transformed while the man backed his car into the vacant spot. As they headed through a door that took them into the City itself, they were joined by the Autobot Twins.

"Hey Blue, who's the human?" Sunstreaker asked.

"Oh, that's the guy Jazz works with," Bluestreak replied.

Sideswipe nudged Sunstreaker before his brother said something rude. Sunstreaker glared back at him.

"Dashiel Faireborn," Dash said.

"Well Jazz isnt here," Sideswipe said. "He's off in Japan."

"That's why I'm here," Dash replied. "How is Jazz? I havent heard anything on or from him since the night they flew him to Japan."

Sunstreaker crossed his arms and frowned. "Come to think of it, neither have we. Ratchet has declared part of the medbay off-limits as well."

"And Prime sent Skyfire off to Australia the minute he got back. You don't think anything's happened to Jazz do you?" Sideswipe asked.

"Lets go find out," Bluestreak said.

The three Autobots set off down the hall so fast that Dash was forced to break into a run to keep up. Finally Bluestreak bent down and scooped him up in his hands with an apologetic grin on his face. They rounded a corner, and without even pausing to knock on the door, the Twins burst in. Bluestreak followed, a little less gung-ho. Prowl looked up, as the silver mech bent and placed Dash back on the floor.

"Something the matter?" the tactician asked coolly, nodding a welcome to Dash before levelling the three Autobots with an authoritative optic.

"Jazz," Sunstreaker said bluntly. "Why the slag havent we heard anything about him?"

"Quite frankly because there is nothing to tell," Prowl replied. "Skyfire dropped them off safely and since we have not been contacted, proceedures are going well. They were told only to call us if something went wrong."

A dozen questions sprang to Dash's mouth, but he swallowed them back down. These were mechs who had known Jazz for millions of years, and if they had faith that their friend was going to be alright, then who was he – who had only known Jazz a few days – to question that faith. Hope and faith, Jazz mentioned once, were sometimes more reassuring than cold, hard facts. So he decided to have a little faith in the people taking care of Jazz, and hope for the best.

Sideswipe and Bluestreak seemed satisfied by what Prowl said and quietly left the room. Sunstreaker followed, but when he reached the door, he stopped and looked back.

"If ANYTHING happens to Jazz, I'm going to be VERY slagged off," he said.

"Noted," Prowl replied calmly. "So will I."

The yellow mech left the room and only Dash and Prowl remained. Dash turned to go when a a question from the tactician stopped him.

"How goes your investigation?"

"Going alright right up until Jazz got hurt. We managed to delay Jonathon Mason's trial, but with Jazz temporarily gone, I'm not sure what to do next."

Prowl regarded him keenly. "Knowing Jazz as well as I do, he'd want you to carry on the investigations, because he's going to jump right back into this as soon as he's able. Do what you can while he's away and he'll do his part." He studied the man closer. "Do you need our help?"

Dash looked at him, a bit of his old nature creeping up. "Why would you want to help me?"

Prowl all but sighed. "This matter concerns us just as much as it concerns you. Perhaps more, since it is our soldiers – our friends – who are on the line. The survival of the Autobot race as a whole may depend on the success of your mission."

"Jazz never mentioned that."

"And he never will. He's not the kind of mech to say things like that. He's far too optimistic." A faint smile crossed Prowl's face and vanished in the next instant. "Now, would you like our help? Just because Jazz isnt here doesn't mean you're on your own."

"My father mentioned a Dr. Archeville, an ex-employee of the EDC who fit the description that Jonathon Mason gave us. If we can get a record on him, we might be able to track him down and get us a possible location."

Prowl turned to his computer, hit a few keys, and in a few moments he had brought up the EDC's old records, and began scrolling through them. A few keywords later and Dr. Archeville's profile filled the screen.

"How did you do that?" Dash asked.

"I am a strategist," Prowl replied. "In order to do my job well, I need to gain access to certain types of information."

"So basically, you just hacked into the EDC system."

The tactician smiled wryly. "Something like that, yes. Though 'hacking' is a rather harsh term." He lifted Dash up so the man could get a better look at the screen. "Dr. Archeville worked for your father, from the time the EDC was founded up until about five years ago."

"It says here that he was fired from the science department," Dash peered closer. "Because he was beginning to experiement with mind-control and hypnotism, and tried to use other EDC employees as test subjects."

"Didn't Wheeljack say that Bombshell's cerebro-shell was coupled with a man-made device?"

"He did. You think Dr. Archeville might have succeeded in his experiments?" A look at Prowl's face told him that was exactly was the tactician was thinking.

"Jonathon Mason may not be the only victim," Prowl said. "There may be others in the EDC completely unaware that they're under someone else's control. Your father's secretary for one. Have they managed to find her?"

"She's still missing," Dash replied. "And you may be right."

"You should go tell your father. We need to find out if anyone has had contact with a person matchingh the doctor's description. If we don't find out who the spies are, your mission will be all the more harder."

"I'll go talk to him. Thanks for your help Prowl."

"Good luck," he replied.

* * *

Nathaniel Faireborn regarded his son with a scrutinizing eye. The younger Faireborn certainly had inherited his father's stubborness to budge from a particular course of action. 

"Look," Dash said, crossing his arms. "You can doubt me all you want, but are you willing to argue with Prowl? He's the Autobot's top tactician, not to mention Second-In-Command."

"I am fully aware of Prowl's ranking thank you," Nathaniel replied. "And I don't doubt you. All I'm saying is that do you even understand the time and resources it would take to run a thorough check of every person the EDC employs?"

"And do you understand how much worse things could get if you don't? You may as well hand the Binaltech information over to the Decepticons and save Jazz and myself the trouble of investigating. At least start with those under the Binaltech Project. That's the area the Autobots are most concerned about."

"So you want me to be more concerned for the Autobots than for my own people?"

"The Autobots are people too, in their own way. Isnt that why you helped found the EDC in the first place? To help them? The way I see it, they've been helping you a lot more than you've been helping them. Don't you think its time to return the favor?"

Nathaniel smiled a wry smile and leaned back in his chair. "If you're not careful, you're going to become like your old man. That's almost the exact same thing I said when I lobbied for the creation of the EDC. Yes Dashiel, I know the importance of the Autobots to us. Of course I want to preserve their value."

"See Dad, that's the difference between you and me. You see the Autobots as allies – an advantage against an enemy. I see them as my friends."

"Friends eh? And how long have you known them? A few days perhaps?"

"At least they treat me with more respect than you do."

"Dashiel, before you get in over your head, try not to forget that these Autobots, no matter how nice they seem, are robots. They are not capable of some of the things we are. Emotions are one. They have only limited emotions. They cant feel like we can."

Dash remembered the last few days he'd spent with a few of the Autobots. He remembered the frustration, disappointment and hope Jazz had gone through when he'd found out about his injuries; the care and concern Ratchet had shown; the loyalty and steadfast friendship of Bluestreak and the Twins; Prowl's willingness to help while Jazz was away. These Autobots had something that humans would never understand. If their emotions were indeed limited, then at least the robots used them to their fullest.

"You're wrong," he said softly. "They're not just fighting, killing machines who happen to be good guys. If all they cared about was going back to their home planet, they would have all left a long time ago."

"I just want you to be careful around them. They don't have a wife and daughter to take care of. You do."

"Don't bring them into this."

"I am simply trying to remind you of what you stand to risk losing if you get careless."

"Jazz would never let anything happen to me or to them. If he feels its too dangerous, he'd never let me near. He's already proved it once. I trust him."

Dash was a little surprised to hear himself saying that, but he knew it was true. He did trust Jazz, at least now. Not that he hadnt been pissed that Jazz hadn't told him about his suspicions of Courtney, but as his wife had bluntly put it, if that hit was powerful enough to paralyze Jazz, it could have certainly killed him. So he needed to stop behaving like an ungrateful wretch.

Father and son stared at each other a little longer. Nathaniel broke contact first.

"Alright," he said. "I'll speak to the board and do what I can, and have some results for you as soon as possible."

"Thanks."

"Tell Amanda and Marissa I'll come by to see them soon…. And Dashiel, take care of yourself."

Dash nodded and left his father's office…. He made his way down to the prisons to see Jonathon Mason. The young man's appearance hadnt changed much. His hair was still unkempt, his clothes rumpled, and a dark layer of stubble shadowed his face. He lept from his bunk when he saw Dash."

"Please tell me you've come with good news."

"Well, yes and no," Dash said. "I'm not here to let you out, but I am here to tell you that we've got a lead on the guy who got you into this mess in the first place. A positive ID brings us one step closer to finding and apprehending him."

"Sounds good." Jonathon looked around. "Where's Jazz? I though the two of you were working on this case together?"

"We are. There was an incident the last time I came to see you and - ."

"Is he alright? He's not dead is he!"

"No no, he's alive, but he got hurt pretty badly. To cut a long story short, the other Autobots decided to fly his essence, shall we say, to Japan to be put into a new body, while the Autobot medics work on fixing his old one."

Jonathon clutched the bars and rested his head on them with a sigh. "I'm screwed."

"Hey! Jazz is not going to give up on you, I can promise you that. He's not that type of 'Bot, to leave a man when things start going a bit rocky. He's trying to help you. You just need to trust him." He looked the younger man in the eyes. "Trust him."

"I do trust him," Jonathon replied. "But Jazz is only one Autobot, and how much can one Autobot possibly do?"

"A hell of a lot if that one Autobot is Jazz. He's not called Special Operations Agent for nothing. Have a little faith and believe in him Jon, he'll get you out."

"I cant stand this anymore Dash. Every day it feels like the walls are closing in more and more. I'm going crazy in here."

"You claustrophobic?"

"I don't know."

"I'll have one of the EDC's psychiatrists come down and talk to you if you like. It might make you feel better."

"Thanks, but I don't know how much its going to help."

"Its better than nothing. Until we find this Dr. Archeville, I'm afraid you're going to be stuck in there."

An explosion rocked the floor of the prisons and Dash was forced to hold onto the bars of Jonathon's cell to keep from falling over.

"What was that!" Jon asked.

Dash steadied himself. "I don't know, but I'm going to find out. Get under the bunk and don't come out till I get back. There's something going on."

He ran back to the entrance, reaching for his gun and then remembering he'd left it back at the house. Muttering a curse under his breath, he slowed his pace as he neared the entrance and swerved to the side as a large chunk of the ceiling came down. He came to a dead halt when he saw Gary, the prisons guard, pull out his own weapon and aim it at a gigantic robotic insect, the one he recognized, from pictures Jazz had shown him, as Bombshell. Gary fired a couple of shots which merely bounced off the thick, Cybertronian armour.

"Foolish human," the Insecticon said. "Let me show you real fire power."

Before Dash could react, the creature fired his own weapon, vaporizing the guard where he stood, and throwing Dash back a good couple of metres. He hit a wall and crumpled to the ground. He lay still as the Insecticon passed him, on its way to where the prison cells were. Darkness began to creep up on him, numbing the needles of pain that jabbed at his skull. The last sounds he heard were those of metal buckling and Jonathon Mason screaming.

* * *

A/N: Still kinda old chapters i'm putting up here... the piece is still a work in progress and have no idea when i'm ever going to finish it... hit a block in the middle of it up until a while ago and i'm only just getting over it again... So we'll see how it goes...

Tiamat: yes, good TF fanfic is. well.. good.. and quite hard to come by too... P

Shades: always said Ratch has a bark worse than his bite )... he likes Jazz, really.. he does...

Whirly: rest assured Prowl was one of the visitors...

Tirya: shall try and post stuff more frequently... alot of my stuff is written in one long continuous flow.. but maybe if i can break some of the longer stories into chapters i'll have more to post... you must email/IM me sometime.. AIM: xpurajox , email: stridertook all!


	7. It Only Takes A Spark

**It Only Takes A Spark**

Hiroshima, Japan, had come a long way since the events of World War II. The city was now a thriving economic hub, full of high-rise condominiums, department stores and offices, between which lay beautifully sculpted gardens, temples and pagodas – a charming blend of modernity and antiquity.

In one of these sky scrapers, situated in the industrial sector of the city, was housed Mazda Corporation – one of Japan's leading car manufacturers. The building was like any other car showroom. The first couple of floors displayed the various models of cars Mazda had created over the years. Further up were located its many business, financial, marketing and various other departments. A person walking in would see nothing unusual within it…. Unless, of course, they ventured below street level.

Several metres below street level lay Mazda's secret concept lab, where several top scientists and engineers had gathered under the supervision of Dr. Fujiyama – Japan's world-renowned robotics expert. Together they labored night and day, in collaboration with Chip Chase, to build, program and perfect the best body they could, to house the Autobots' Special Operations Agent. Chip was amazed at the level of technology they had. To say Jazz was in good hands would have been an understatement.

It became quite apparent to Chip that Jazz was a much beloved Autobot to the Japanese people, and they wouldn't have done this for just anyone, not even Optimus Prime. He learned later, after conversations with several of them, that they were doing this for less than their normal fee as well. According to them, they had a lot of respect for Jazz, mainly because he was not only respectful of their culture and traditions, but the few times he had visited the country, he had helped the people in some small way or the other. What he had done and how he had helped, they would not say, so Chip sufficed that it had touched the people in a big way that they now wanted to return the favor, and left it at that.

Not that it was surprising to Chip. To a stranger, Jazz had the potential to come across as a bit loud and gregarious, not to mention flamboyant, what with his music and generous, hearty laughter. To someone who knew him, on the other hand – and Chip had known him for close to 20 years – it wasn't that he was not loud and flamboyant, rather, that was not all he was. He had depth that most were not aware of because he didn't usually let it show. He preferred to project his optimistic, happy-go-lucky nature.

But Chip had seen a few of the other aspects of the black and white. Prime had not made him a senior Autobot just because he was always bright and cheerful. Chip had seen some of the sacrifices Jazz had made over the years, both for the humans as well as for his fellow Autobots. Some of them had 'what were you thinking?' written all over them, but Jazz always shrugged as if to say, 'what would you have done?'.

Like the time he lost his gliding ability. He'd executed a perfect baseball slide and kicked an injured Sunstreaker out of the way of an oncoming Combaticon tank, but hadnt been quick enough to get out of the way himself. His legs, from the shins down had been all but crushed. Sideswipe had swooped in on his jetpack and hauled the both of them to safety, and Ratchet had gone into fits over the state of Jazz's legs. Luckily for Jazz, Ratchet had been able to repair his legs and get them back to normal working condition, but his ailerons were beyond repair and had to be permanently removed. Jazz didn't regret his actions, and if he lamented his loss at all, he never showed it.

To many, he was a hero, but he never actively tried to be one. Basically, if someone needed help, he would help them, no matter how big or small the task – be it saving someone's life or simply retrieving a child's kite from the branches of a tree. He was the kind of mech any leader would want: good at following orders, but just as good as giving them out, in such a way that it felt more like a simple request than an actual order. It wasn't a wonder then, to Chip, that many responded to Jazz the way they did.

He guarded Jazz's spark unceasingly, day and night. He made sure the box that contained it was within his sight at all times, and when he slept, he kept one arm around it. Some of the others probably thought he was crazy, but those who knew Jazz, and knew what was in the box understood why he did so. At the same time, he and Dr. Fujiyama constantly went round supervising the construction and fine-tuning of Jazz's new body. They wanted to retain as much of Jazz's defining physical qualities as possible, and every once in a while a disagreement would crop up.

Chip understood that the engineers only wanted to do the best for the Autobot, but he also knew that if they messed around with too much, or altered too much, Jazz could very well be lost, and he had promised that he would let no harm come to the mech. So Chip had no choice but to remain adamant no matter how unpopular it made him.

Once in a while, especially after a heated argument, he found himself taking comfort in Jazz's spark. Every now and then he opened the box and found himself staring at the rainbow of colors that danced and swirled inside the little sphere, as if begging to be set free inside a body once more, where it could once again release its vibrant, life-giving energies. The mere sight of it was enough to reassure Chip that he was doing the right thing.

It was on one of these occassions that Chip suddenly found himself pondering the strength and vitality of spark energies. He knew each spark was different, but did that also mean the energy each one had was different too? Could some be stronger than others? Could some be more consistent? More enduring? He looked closer at Jazz's. it was certainly energetic, what with all the dancing that was going on within it. He remembered the problems he faced with the Autobot cloning process, about the clone subject having the problem of not possessing a spark signature. There had to be a way around that obstacle….

Before he could continue on that train of thought however, there came a quiet knock on his room door, just before Dr. Fujiyama entered.

"We are ready," he said.

As if Jazz's spark could somehow hear and understand what had just been said, it flared brighter for a few moments, the colors increasing in intensity. Chip grinned, his tiredness suddenly gone. He carefully picked up the box.

"Looks like he's ready too."

* * *

A/N: Shorter chapter than others but i dont want to leave too long a pause between installments..

TrueBornChaos: yay for new fans!

Shades: Jazz is one of the few mechs who actually sticks up for the Twins.. only natural they'd appreciate it.

SpinFirestorm: there's a lot more in store for Jazz and Dash...

Tirya: only time will tell how wise Dash was in mentioning that... yeah the writers block is slowly fading and the plot bunnies are waking up.. only wish they could have timed it AFTER my exams


	8. Makeover

**Makeover**

Jazz's hands flew to his face, his fingers running frantically over its contours, before finally coming to rest on the familiar strip of toughened glass that stretched across his optics. Heaving a sigh of relief, he brought his optics online and once more looked at the world through filtered blue.

"I specifically instructed them to keep the visor." Chip Chase's voice filled his audios. "Somehow you just didn't look right without it."

Jazz turned his head to look at the man, wanting to speak but terrified to do so incase the sound that came from his mouth was anything but what he was used to. He touched his throat.

"You'll never know unless you say something."

"Thanks," Jazz said, and the voice that he heard was his own. "Really, thank you."

"My pleasure Jazz. Now why don't you get up and take a good and proper look at yourself?"

"Don't mind if I do actually."

Jazz pulled himself into a sitting position, swung his legs off the operating table and stood up. He worked out the stiffness in his new joints, then slowly walked over to the large mirror, where he stood for a good, long while. Now, while Jazz was not at Sunstreaker or Tracks level in terms of being vain, he did have a tiny fragment of vanity in him that made him want to look good. Didn't everyone? After all, who DIDN'T want to look their best? So he stood there taking in every edge and curve of his new body.

They had retained the black and white paint scheme, his head and helmet were pretty much the same, his hands were still black. He did infact look almost like his old self. The only differences were that the red, blue and number markings were gone and his body was now that of a Mazda sports car instead of a Porsche. Overall, he was quite pleased with his physical appearance – at least in robot form. He had yet to lay optics on his car mode.

"So what do you think?" Chip asked.

"I think it looks great!" Jazz replied, still looking at his reflection and trying out different poses. "And I've never felt better. Feels like I just stepped out of an energon pool." He flexed his elbows, wrists and knees. "Ain't there anywhere I can let out all this energy? I might just burn up if I don't."

"I know just the thing for you," Chip said. "C'mon, follow me." He led the way out of the room. "We put your body through every physical, chemical and electrical test we could think of, and so far nothing's even scraped the paint – triple coating of Snowflake White Pearl Mica by the way – so lets see how it fares now, with a mind to control it."

A surge of excitement ran through Jazz's circuits as he followed Chip down the hallway. "So where are we going?"

"Mazda has kindly built you a special training room in here."

"Where's here?"

"Hiroshima. Mazda concept lab, 10 metres below street level. Above us is the Mazda Corporation skyscraper."

"Wow. Didn't know they were that well equipped."

"Neither did I, but they seem to like you here, so they went all out."

Jazz's lips curled into a small grin, the kind that comes on with the recollection of a fond memory. "What can I say? Its nice to be popular sometimes."

"Sure is." Chip didn't want to pry if Jazz didn't want to tell him anything. "Well, here we are. Dr. Fujiyama here will explain some stuff to you that you should know about your new body."

Jazz and the doctor greeted each other with the traditional Japanese bow, followed by a handshake of sorts. Then the doctor opened the doors of the training room with a remote control.

"I believe experience will be the best teacher," he said. "Go on in my friend, and let us see if our technology truly befits one of your stature."

"I'm sure you guys wont let me down," Jazz replied, and stepped in without any questions.

Once he was inside, the lights went down and the environment changed to that of a city. Decepticons appeared and began to fire at him. Jazz jumped, dodged and ran, feeling out every joint and connection in his new body, testing their strength and skill – how high he could jump, how fast he could run, how agile he was, how much he could twist and bend his body. Information rushed to his brain, even as he summoned his photon rifle and blew the slag out of the fake Decepticons, barely even whipping his head around to look as he fired. As he shot what was probably the last Decepticon, the environment changed again.

He was on a plateau, about five metres by five metres. Surrounding it was a gaping wide canyon that ended in razor sharp rocks hundreds of feet below. Even an Autobot would have a hard time surviving that. Beyond the canyon and plateau lay flat plains – the path to freedom, away from the three Seekers that circled above him like vultures. Again he swerved and danced away as laser bolts peppered the ground around him. He knew the only way to escape was to risk jumping and hope to Primus that he made it across – a leap of faith as it were. He backed up, ran, and pushed off the edge. The canyon was a lot wider than he'd gauged.

An unconscious command travelled instinctively from his brain to his legs, and before Jazz knew what was happening, powerful thrusters, located in his ankles, powered up and pushed him forward and upward, enabling him to glide safely over the divide. As he hit the ground on the other side and rolled, the environment disappeared and the lights came on, and he found himself lying on the floor of the training room. He pushed himself to his feet as the doors opened and the two humans walked in.

"How was it?" Chip asked.

"Great man! Like I never left my old body, better even. But, the ailerons, how did you…?"

"Just thought we'd give you back something that was taken from you."

"I'm afraid they arent nearly as powerful as your original pair," Dr. Fujiyama said. "They are good only in short bursts and can cover a maximum distance of 3000 metres. They ARE man-made after all."

"All the same, its great to have 'em back," Jazz replied. "I kinda missed 'em."

"Just be sure to stay away from tanks then," Chip joked.

"Hey man, if it comes down to a choice 'tween savin' a buddy or savin' my 'rons, I'd pick the buddy. Ailerons can be replaced, friends cant. I'd gladly do it again."

"I have no doubts you would," the doctor said.

Jazz only smiled. "So what else I got on this new body o' mine?"

"Overhead flamethrower, full-spectrum beacons and 180 decible speakers mean anything to you?" asked Chip.

"Alright! Now we're talkin', I was hopin' I still had those." Jazz grinned. "Now what about the car? I'm dyin' to go for a spin around town."

"Oh, please follow me," Dr. Fujiyama said. "I will show you the way up to street level. I am sure after that you know your way quite well around the city?"

"Sure do. Lead the way doctor. You coming Chip?"

"No, you go ahead Jazz. I wanna stay and work on a few theories I've been having."

"Alright, knock yourself out."

"Have a nice drive, Jazz."

Jazz followed Dr. Fujiyama down more corridors and stepped into a large elevator that opened out into Mazda's private carpark. They stepped out into the sunshine and Jazz took a moment to let the late afternoon light warm his cold metal skin. It felt good to be able to feel again, paralysis was not a pleasant state of existance. He shook his head slightly to dispell the memory, and transformed. His body twisted and folded, panels and gears locked into place, seats came up, doors shut, until finally he looked like any other expensive Mazda sports car, glinting a soft white in the sun. His engine came on with a soft purr.

"Yikes, I feel pretty darn expensive. Just what did y'all rebuild me into anyway?"

"A Mazda RX-8, one of their newest sports cars," Dr. Fujiyama replied. "It's a better disguise for you than your old model. It should help you blend in more with the cars of today. We also equipped you with Mazda's trademark rotary engine. It makes you a lot more fuel efficient so you can function for longer periods of time before you require another recharge."

"Man, you guys did go all out for me didn't ya?"

"We Japanese believe in rewarding a kind deed, and you have done many for my people. It is only fitting that we return the favor."

"Aww, it wasn't much. I just did what anyone else woulda done in my place. Nonetheless I do thank y'all for everything you've done for me."

"No good deed is ever too big or too small that it doesn't deserve to be rewarded or returned."

"Yeah, I know. Though ya shouldn't go 'round expectin' to be rewarded when ya do a good deed."

"Wise words my friend."

Jazz revved his engine. "A Japanese monk told me that once."

"When you helped rebuild his temple after it was damaged in a typhoon. Yes, I know the story."

"Word travels fast 'round here don't it?"

"It tends to, yes. Now, go on. The evening is yours. Do not waste it with idle chatter, for you never know when you will have such an evening again."

"Hehe, alright. I'll be back tonight." He pulled away, and shot through the carpark with a sudden burst of speed.

* * *

Shades: the Binaltech booklets already incorporate both lines into one story... i just develope it a little more... basically i'm just telling the story found in Jazz's booklet since that was what bred the plot bunny in the first place.

Tirya: basically he knows if anything gets screwed up, Sunstreaker will be VERY slagged off..

H-Blues: patience now.. Zoomy will be here soon..


	9. Test Drive

**Test Drive**

Jazz swerved deftly through the mild traffic on the roads, his white Mazda RX-8 alt mode slipping effortlessly past the other vehicles. He'd left the highways behind a long time ago, and was now driving along the main-streets, and since he had no particular destination in mind, he decided to just keep driving and see where the road would take him. The road, for its part, did not disappoint him since there was always something interesting to see around almost every corner.

Every now and then he'd find himself checking out his reflection in a store window while stopped at a red street-light, and he chided himself for indulging in what was essentially a Tracks pastime, but there was a little part of him that honestly couldn't help himself. He just looked that slagging good. There were, in fact, several people who checked him out and commented on what a gorgeous car he was. Oh Primus forbid he ever become like Tracks and Sunstreaker.

Just incase however, he decided to head for one of the more quieter parts of the city. It was there that he found a large and well-sculpted Japanese garden, in the middle of which stood a 10-storey pagoda. He stopped outside, transformed back to robot mode and went inside. The grass was thick and lush, glowing a soft green that contrasted with the pink and white petals of the cherry blossom flowers that lay scattered around the trees they were cast down from. The trees themselves were in abundance, and lined a stone walkway that led from the main gate to the entrance of the pagoda. Further past the pagoda was a small lake where hundreds of koi fish swam, and around which more trees grew. All of this was bathed in the gold of the evening sun that reflected off Jazz's metallic white armor as he walked towards the lake.

He sat down on a cushion of grass, a few feet away from the water's edge, and let out a sigh in appreciation of the blissful serenity that surrounded the place. It was just so peaceful. Ever since he'd signed on with Optimus Prime's band of Autobots, peace was something that had been sorely lacking in his life. Instead, he had millions of years of fighting, wounding and sometimes even killing other lifeforms, all for the sake of some war that he never even knew the beginning of. How on Cybertron had it all started anyway? He couldn't remember.

It was the killing part of it that Jazz detested the most. It was one of the things he downright hated. He always believed in living life to the fullest, treasuring life for what it was and making the most of it; so to be forced to take it away from another, under the power of his own hands… he avoided it whenever he could. More often than not, he chose to wound his enemy and slow him down rather than kill him outright and cover his tracks. It made his own job a little riskier, but at least he'd be able to shut down at night, without the life-fluids of some poor mech on his hands – literally and otherwise.

The few times he'd had to kill… the memories still sickened him. Whenever he'd had to, upon returning back to their home base, he'd shut himself in his quarters, turn on the loudest, angst-ridden music – Cybertronian or Earthen – he could find, and cry till his optics burned. When he was done, he'd slip his visor back on again and go back to being ever-cheerful, jovial Jazz. The other Autobots never knew what went on behind closed doors. They didn't need to.

It was one of his more-secret reasons for staying in Special Operations, rather than being a front-line battlefield warrior. The chances of killing someone were extremely low.

This didn't mean that he disliked those Autobots who had to go out and kill on a daily basis, or that he thought of himself as more righteous. He didn't. It was just his own set of morals, and he was careful not to let them clash with others. He knew that for some of the others, fighting and killing was all they knew. Like the Twins for instance. They fought and killed without remorse. It didn't make them bad as individuals, they just knew that if they stopped to feel sorry everytime they killed someone, they would be next in line to get fragged. It was as simple as that – kill or be killed.

A fish jumped out of the water and landed back in with a loud splash, startling Jazz, and snapping him out of his thoughts. He shook his head. He'd come out here for some peace and quiet, but was thinking and reminiscing about stuff that he didn't really want to remember. He shifted into a cross-legged position, rested his arms on his knees, shut his optics and tried to relax himself. He was going to get his peace and quiet.

He sat like that for a good long while, letting the cool breeze wrap around and caress him, letting the birds sing their songs in his audios, and occassionally letting a butterfly, or two, kiss him on the mouth. When he finally opened his optics, he smiled contentedly to himself. It felt good to be loved. In that time, the sun had slowly sunk below the horizon, and the twilight was slowly giving way to the dark night sky. He stood up, dusted himself off, then looked up at the stars and grinned as they winked back at him.

He was still grinning when he got back to Mazda Corporation and made his way down to the lower levels, whistling a chirpy little tune as he walked down the hallway in search of Chip. He found him in the makeshift common room talking to Dr. Fujiyama over a plate of leftover sushi.

"Hey guys, how's it goin'?" he asked, coming inside.

They looked up.

"Oh, hey Jazz," said Chip. "How was your drive?"

"Relaxin'." He looked at what the two men were eating. "You callin' that dinner? 'Cause somethin' tells me that don't look all that good for you to be eatin'."

The doctor took a bite out of one, quickly swallowed and put the other half back on the plate. "He may be right."

Chip shrugged. "Its not so bad, and besides, we cant exactly leave our work now can we?"

"And what work might that be?" Jazz asked.

"I believe, with Dr. Fujiyama's help, I can make some significant progress on the Autobot cloning process."

"Man what is it with you science types always wanting to stay holed up in your labs and totally missing out on what goes on outside?" Jazz shrugged, strode up to them and gently picked them up – one in each hand. "C'mon, we're gonna get you guys some proper food." He carried them back up to ground level, where he set them down and transformed. "Get in."

"Y'know one of the perks of being pals with the Autobots?" Chip asked as he slid in.

"Enlighten me," Jazz said.

"You always get to ride in the snazzy sports cars."

* * *

A/N: this was a particularly favorite chapter of mine to write cos i got to get into Jazz's head yet again and have him do a little more reflecting on his past and his life

Tiamat: believe me.. i drooled too...

Shades: Jazz likes to help, really, he does.. )

Tirya: oh i'm going by the toy and the specs. They didnt change too much when they came to Jazz, trust me. his BT version is one of the coolest.

Whirly: i think its an east-Asian thing. no matter how little the help is, it will always be seen as something big..


	10. Back In The Game

**Back In The Game**

Jazz dropped the two men off at a decently priced restaurant and sat outside sipping from a large bowl of sake – a strong Japanese rice wine. Luckily, instead of getting him drunk, his systems wouldjust convert the alcohol into fuel. His brain unconsciously calculated the time difference between Japan and the US, and he figured that once they got back to Mazda HQ, it would be sufficiently late enough in the morning to call home and get an update on his case, and possibly a flight back out.

Upon returning, that was exactly what he did. Dr. Fujiyama helped him tap into a phone line and he dialled up Dashiel Faireborn's home. A woman answered on the fourth ring.

"Hey Amanda," he greeted Dash's wife cheerfully as he sat down on the floor and leaned back against a wall. "How're you and the family?"

"This is Autobot Jazz right?" she asked.

"The one and only," he replied. "And its quite the pleasure to speakwith you ma'am."

"The feeling's mutual, but I thought Dash said you were in Japan?"

"That's where I'm calling from. Had a small accident so got sent down here to be repaired. Came back online today."

"Then you havent heard," Amanda said.

Jazz sat up little straighter. "I ain't heard a lot of things, which one in particular are we talkin' about?"

"Is that Jazz?" Dash's slurry voice asked in the back, as if he'd just woken up from sleep.

"The EDC was attacked three days ago," Amanda said.

Jazz jerked upright. "What! Primus! Is Dash alright?"

"I'm fine! Jazz, I'm fine, I'm alright!" Dash shouted.

"How is he?" Jazz asked.

"He had a concussion and sprained his left wrist. The doctors released him from hospital last morning."

"Let me talk to him."

There was some rustling and movement on the other end during which time Jazz got to his feet and started pacing.

"Jazz? How are you?" Dash asked.

"I'm fine man, but what happened over there?"

"The Decepticons attacked the EDC. They distracted the defense team long enough for one of the Insecticons to break into the prisons. Tried to stop them. I think they took Jonathon. His cell was empty when they checked the wreckage."

The white and black mech was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, it was with great reluctance.

"I want you off this case," he said.

"You've got to be kidding me," Dash replied incredulous.

"I've never been more serious. I mean it Dash. This only shows how dangerous it's gonna get, and I don't want to risk anything more happenin' to you."

"This is my case as much as yours Jazz, and lest we forget, you got hurt a lot worse than I did."

"I'm a robot Dash. I get hurt, they can always rebuild me or replace parts. You get hurt like I did, how are they gonna repair you?"

"Well, I'm still standing arent I?"

"Listen Dash, ya gotta think here. They got Jon. What's to say they're not gonna come after you next? Or Amanda and Marissa? Are you willing to risk your family?"

"Are you willing to risk yours?"

"It ain't the same thing. My 'family' as you put it, have been fighting this war before you humans even evolved. They know how to take care of themselves. I ain't riskin' you Dash, or your family. I'm not even gonna argue on this one. You're off this case Dash, I'm sorry."

"You cant do this alone."

"I've been workin' alone ever since I was assigned to this division, so I'm gonna try. I don't want anyone's innocent blood or mech fluid on my hands this time. Now if ya don't mind, I need to call my commander and get some details. Get well soon Dash."

"Jazz…."

Jazz hung up, feeling bad about being so blunt, but knowing that this time he didn't have a choice. He really didn't want anyone else getting hurt, or worse. Neither could he afford the time to feel sorry for himself or others. He was back on the case now, and the stakes had risen. There was a life on the line and it was upto him to save it.

With a deep sigh he patched into a computer and connected to Teleran One down at Autobot City. In minutes he had Prime and Prowl on the screen. They seemed relieved to see him again, but he didn't give them a chance to ask him how he was.

"I just spoke to Dash. He said the 'Cons attacked the EDC and took Jonathon. Where were you guys?"

"Autobot City came under attack from a human military contingent," Prowl said. "They were not affiliated with any world government that we know of. It became apparent later that they were in league with the Decepticons, as their attack provided enough of a diversion to keep us from aiding the EDC."

Jazz shook his head in frustration. "So what now? What do we know? Any idea why they did this?"

"This was all Starscream's doing. He contacted us after the attack and told us that if we Jonathon Mason back alive, you had to come and get him," said Prime.

"You do realize it is a trap," Prowl said.

"Yeah? Now what gave you that idea?" Jazz asked rather sarcastically. "Who'da thought the ol' Jazz-man'd be so popular with the 'Cons?"

"Nice to see you can still laugh over something like this," Prime said, while Prowl, who knew Jazz a little better, smiled ever so slightly.

"Ever hearda gallows humor?" Jazz shrugged. "Were ya able to trace the call to a source?"

"You're not seriously thinking of going after him?" a note of alarm crept into Prime's voice.

"No, I'm not thinking of going after him, I AM going after him. So get me a location and make ma job easier or I'll just go out and find one maself."

"We managed to trace the call as far as the north-east sector of China," Prowl said. "It may have gone on further, but its hard to tell."

"Further? But beyond China is…" Jazz began.

"Mongolia," Prime finished for him. "The Mongolian desert."

"One of the most remote and isolated areas in the world, it makes sense," Jazz said. "So that's gotta be where old Starscream's holed up. It ties in with the clues Dr. Archeville left behind in the parking lot."

"It also explains why he keeps disappearing so easily," Prowl added. "He's had free passage over the Pacific Ocean between north-western America and north-eastern China."

"Until now." Jazz's tone grew serious.

"Jazz this is far too dangerous," Prime said.

"Prime c'mon, when have I ever taken a mission that wasn't dangerous? You know as well as I do, I'm the best and only 'Bot for the job. Ain't that why ya called me back in the first place? 'Sides, I'm just gonna creep in, find Jon and the missing blueprints, and get out again."

"I am inclined to agree with him Prime," said Prowl. "One Special Operations Officer may have more success in getting in there, than a large group of warriors trying to storm the place. And the fewer humans involved the better."

Prime sighed. "At least take some back-up with you."

Jazz shook his head. "No way Prime. You just said this is gonna be dangerous, and it will be. I ain't gonna risk any innocent mech's life. They just don't have the skills I do, and I don't trust no one but myself on this. I already pulled Dash Faireborn off the case."

Apprehension rolled off the Autobot leader in waves. Prowl too looked a little uneasy, but did show a little more confidence than Prime did. Jazz could see it in their faces, and he didn't blame them. He was more afraid than he was letting on too.

"C'mon guys," he said. "Have a little faith in me will ya? Have I ever let ya down before? Besides, ol' Screamer probably thinks he's gonna get the half-recovered old me. He ain't got a clue about my Binaltech upgrade."

"That certainly is an advantage," Prowl agreed.

"Sure is. Alright, so have ol' Teletran send me whatever information ya got, and I'll be on my merry way first thing tomorrow."

"How do you plan on getting from Japan to China?" Prime asked.

"The old-fashioned way – human transport. Besides, it'll give me some time to gather a few more clues and come up with some sort of plan."

"We're sending you the information right now," Prime told him. "Good luck Jazz."

"Thanks Prime. Oh, and tell Ratchet I'm fine, and say 'Hi' to everyone else for me will ya?"

"Consider it done."

"Alrighty then, Jazz out."

The screen went blank. Optimus Prime cast a worried look at his Second-In-Command.

"Do you think he can do it?" he asked.

"Let's put it this way," Prowl replied. "If he cant do it, no one can."

* * *

A/N: yes.. envy those butterflies...


	11. Slow Boat To China

**Slow Boat To China**

Water was something unnatural to Transformers, which was not surprising given that water itself, as an element, was not commonly found back on their home planet of Cybertron. So it was not surprising that eventhough a vast majority of them were waterproof, some Autobots in particular did not take easily to large bodies of the organic liquid. However, there were others who didn't mind it at all. Beachcomber, Seaspray, Bumblebee and Jazz were a few of the latter group. It was a good thing for Jazz in particular or he would have had a hard time crossing the sea from Japan to China.

As the case was however, it turned out that Mazda Corp, while not only a leading car manufacturer, also owned a couple of large container-transport ships, that it used to transport its cars from its home country to the rest of the world. The ships were large enough and strong enough that they could carry fairly heavy loads across the sea for several days at a time without any difficulty.

So it was that Jazz found himself on one of these ships – the Hayaikaze, or Swift Wind – en route for the north-eastern coast of China. It was a two-day trip by sea, which gave Jazz plenty of time to himself, to prepare a plan and get ready for what was to come, but so far he'd only been able to accomplish the latter half of it. He was ready, he knew, but he hadnt the slightest inkling of a plan. It was simply another case of making it up as he went along.

He sat cross-legged at the bow of this literal slow boat to China, on the morning of the second day, quietly humming a little tune to himself, while surrounded by a cloudless, cornflower blue sky and a sea of turquoise. He should have been trying again to formulate a plan, but was once again enjoying the sense of peace that lingered as the ship moved lazily through the water. He rested his elbows on his thighs, cupped his chin in his hands and closed his optics, inhaling deeply the tangy, refreshing scent of the open sea.

As he did so, a deep sense of longing also filled him – a longing for someone to share this moment of peace with. A friend, a companion, a partner – even Dash would have been welcome right about now, eventhough he knew he did the right thing by taking the man off the case. Still, it would have been nice to have someone to talk to. The ship's crew, though they were friendly and acknowledged him now and then, were far too busy to actually sit down and have a conversation with him. A rare, sad sigh escaped his lip components and went unheard as it was caught up by the rushing winds.

Another downside, he chalked up as he rolled off the ship to the docks of the little port town of Qinhuangdao, to being as good as he was at his job, was that he was sometimes forced to go on long missions all alone, some of which kept him away from home and friends for long periods of time. And by the looks of it, this would very likely be his longest mission yet…. He crawled slowly through the crowds of people gathered at the docks, his rolled-up, tinted windows concealing the lack of a driver inside. To them he was simply another car on the narrow streets.

"Just another stranger in the crowd," he murmured to himself.

Using a variety of maps he had uploaded to his database, he was able to navigate the labyrinth of streets and get onto a road that would take him to the Chinese capital of Beijing. Evening was slowly giving way into night, but Jazz barely noticed it as he drove – his powerful headlights lighting the way in front of him. His mind was busy wandering elsewhere.

He drove past slower cars, even as vehicles on the faster lane whizzed past him. None of the human occupants within them even bothered to give him a second look, and he found himself suddenly missing his old body. True, being easily noticed and recognized as an Autobot was not good for his line of work, but on the plus side, most people knew who he was and would sometimes come over and speak to him.

He recalled many a time stuck in traffic where he'd had several conversations with people in the neighboring vehicles, simply because they recognized him as Jazz the Autobot. Now, he looked like any other plain white sports car. Part of him considered the idea of having his red and blue race markings painted on him again, once the mission was over and he got back to Autobot City. There was also the possibility that when he did get back, Ratched would have finished the repairs on his old body, and maybe he could transfer himself back into it.

A car honked behind him, snapping him out of his musings, and he quickly realized that his speed had slowed considerably. He floored his accelerator and shot forward with an apologetic honk of his own horn. A faint shudder rippled through his frame as he gave himself a light shake. The lonliness and silence were literally driving him to distraction. Thankfully however, he could remedy the latter problem. He switched on his radio, hoping he could find a 24-hour station, and eventually tuned into a frequency playing English jazz music. The lively, but soothing sounds soon plucked up his spirits and he sang along now and then, since he knew most of the songs being played.

The hours and the miles began to slip away.

Just before the break of dawn, Jazz crossed the state border into the Beijing province and began his drive to the main city area. Then, just outside the city limits, a siren wailed behind him and he cast his scanners back to see a police car at his rear. He checked his speed and saw that he was well within the limit, but nevertheless, he slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road.

"Something the matter, Officer?" Jazz asked in the more common Chinese dialect of Mandarin. It was not exactly a language he was flawlessly fluent in, but he could get by roughly well.

The policeman however, took that as his cue and replied in rapid-fire Chinese that would have made Jazz blink had he been in robot mode. He was only able to make out a sentence or two that roughly translated to 'roll down that window and hand me your license and registration'.

Jazz complied with the first order by lowering his driver's side window and revealing the empty interior. "But I ain't got no papers for ya, Officer, I'm an Autobot," he said, again in halting Chinese.

The policeman took a step back and waved frantically to his partner in the car, pointing at the white Mazda with shouts of 'Autobot! Autobot!'. Jazz cringed inwardly, wishing the human didn't have to shout for the whole of China to hear that there was an Autobot on the side of the road. He was actually considering telling the young policeman to lower his voice, when the second, older policeman came up. The two had a fast-paced conversation in Chinese before the second policeman turned to Jazz, looking inside through the open window to make sure it really WAS an Autobot he was talking to and not some person playing a prank.

"You are an Autobot, yes?" he finally asked in halting English.

"Sure am… and I'd be much obliged if ya could tell me why ya pulled me over," Jazz replied slowly and clearly.

"Your pardon, but we do not get many Autobots in our country. At first we thought you were some young person trying to tempt our laws by driving under an unregistered license plate, that is why we stopped you."

"Just a simple misunderstanding Officer, no harm done. So am I clear to go?"

"It is not that simple I'm afraid," the policeman said, looking somewhat apologetic. "You see, we have had no advanced warning of your arrival from our state's Head of Security, so your presence here, unapproved of, will be most inconvinient both for you and for us."

Jazz sighed mentally. He SO did not need this right now. He couldn't flat out tell them why he was in the country without arousing a slagload of questions, suspicion and needless worry. Not to mention that whatever hope he had of secrecy would be thrown right out the window.

"Then how do I make this easy for both of us?" he asked.

"If you could kindly follow us back to our headquarters, I believe our Commanding Officer would be able to help you better," the man replied.

Jazz considered his options. On the one hand, he could speed off right now without troubling himself over rules and policies, but that would only make his situation worse. The last thing he wanted was humans after him, and besides, he just wasn't that type of mech. On the other hand, he supposed he could talk himself into an agreement where he could carry on his mission without disturbing the humans.

"Alright then, lead the way Officer."


	12. Agent Meister

**Agent Meister**

Jazz sat on the floor of a more spacious room at the Police Headquarters, since there was no way he could ever hope to fit into the human-sized furniture without squashing it flat. The drive to the building had been quick, as his police 'escort' of sorts had been able to cut through the morning's rush hour traffic on the highways. Getting into the building through the back – so as not to draw the attention of the entire precinct - had been a sort of challenge, but luckily the ceilings were high, and he was small enough and agile enough to maneuver through the doorways.

He was grateful when they finally shut him in the room and left him alone to wait for the high-ranking official. He sat and pondered, for a good, long while, a way for him to get past this obstacle that didn't include calling Autobot City and getting Prime and Prowl involved. Besides, the last thing he wanted was his reputation ruined because he couldn't work his way out of a situation with the local authorities. Prowl would never let him live it down. Nope, it was all up to him to get his skids out of this predicament. Outside intervention wasn't an option.

He realized the problem soon enough however. While this wasn't his first trip to China – he had previously visited Shanghai and Kunming on vacation – his previous two visits had been in his old Porsche mode. Being easily recognized and well-known, clearance had been given almost immediately. Now though, he was in a totally different form and there was simply no way he could reveal himself as Jazz, especially being potentially close to a suspected Decepticon base. Again he found himself unconsciously missing his old body. Being unknown and unrecognized was starting to weigh on his spirits.

Jazz looked up at the sound of the door opening and scrambled to his feet as a woman in uniform entered. She closed the door behind her, then turned to get a good look at him. He touched two fingers of his right hand to his helm in a half-salute.

"Good day ta you, ma'am," he said.

The woman nodded, a shadow of a smile on her face. "Good morning to you," she replied, her Chinese accent tinged with a hint of another that he recognized as British. "My name is Lieutenant Chang Ming Ue, and I am the head of this precinct. You may call me Ms. Chang. What is your name, Autobot?"

"Meister," Jazz said, with a mental wince. "Agent Meister."

Agent Meister was an alias he had been forced to use on several occassions when his real name couldn't be used because of some predicament or the other. Yes, it was only a name, but he knew that when those people remembered what he had done for them, they would remember him only as Agent Meister and not as Autobot Jazz. And the hard truth was that Agent Meister had done a hell of a lot more than Autobot Jazz. Now here he was again – Agent Meister, ready once more to steal the spotlight from the one it should have been shining on.

"Agent… Meister?" Lt. Chang asked. "Are you alright?"

Jazz shook his head. "Just a li'l tired ma'am. I've been drivin' all night without a break, an' probably woulda kept on drivin' if your boys hadnt pulled me over."

"I see. Lets talk about why they brought you in then, shall we?"

"By all means. You probably got a lotta questions you wanna ask me, an' I'll try ma best ta answer 'em for ya."

He leaned carefully back against a wall, folding one arm over his mid-section in an effort to try and ignore the grinding coming from his energy storage banks. The woman looked him over skeptically.

"Are you sure you're alright?" she asked. "When was the last time you fuelled up?"

Jazz offered a casual shrug. "A couple of days ago."

The woman shook her head, pulled a walkie-talkie from her belt and spoke a few quick sentences into it, all in a dialect that Jazz was not quite familiar with. Then she replaced the device, went over to a chair and sat down.

"I sent one of the guys out to get you some fuel," she said. "So till he gets back, why don't you and I have that little question and answer session?"

The mech smirked. "Ya got me there." He eased down into a cross-legged position on the floor. "And thank you ma'am. I'm much obliged."

"Well, I cant have you passing out on me in the middle of an interrogation now can I?"

"Guess ya cant."

"Right then, getting to the point. What is your purpose here in China?" she asked.

"Business trip," Jazz replied, not lying, but not being entirely truthful either.

Lt. Chang raised an elegant eyebrow. "A business trip? Agent Meister, how naïve do you think I am to believe something like that?"

"Look ma'am, I said I'd answer your questions as best I could, you can choose to believe me or not, that's your decision, but I stand by what I said about me bein' here on a spot of business for the Autobots."

"Alright. What is the nature of this business?"

"Information gathering."

Lt. Chang leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, draping her right leg over her left. "What kind of information?"

"The confidential kind." Jazz uncrossed his legs and drew his knees up, resting his arms on them.

Lt. Chang uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. "Would this information include the Decepticons?"

"Possibly."

The woman stood up sharply. "This is ridiculous! I'm trying to help you Agent Meister. The least you could do is try to help me in return. If there are Decepticons in China, I need to know about it or people could die."

Jazz never flinched, and instead replied coolly. "There are no 'Cons in China, but they may be close by. I need to find them and stop them, but I cant do that if I have to keep lookin' out for humans tryin' to involve themselves in somethin' outta their league."

"One Autobot against a whole Decepticon army?"

"I never said army. And at this point, I'm the only Autobot capable enough. My business relies on secrecy, not brute force. The less people that know about my business, the lower the risk of them becoming unnecessary targets. I need ya ta trust me on this alright?"

"And I need you to trust me."

"If I didn't, would I have told ya this much? Ms. Chang, I pulled my own partner off this mission. I don't need more innocent people getting involved and then getting hurt."

Lt. Chang sat back down again. "So basically you're telling me to stay out of this?"

"I am."

"At least tell me this then – how close are they?"

"We narrowed it down to your border with Mongolia and we believe a couple of them occassionally fly over China en route to the United States. They wont attack China unless they feel your country poses a threat 'cause they're relyin' on secrecy as much as I am. I cant tell ya anymore than that Ms. Chang, I'm sorry."

There was a knock on the door at this point. Lt. Chang got up to open it. She spoke a few words to the person outside, then shut the door and came back to Jazz with a can of fuel. Jazz accepted it gratefully and she sat down once more.

A moment of silence followed, during which Jazz was able to observe the woman a little more, while he downed the fuel. Lt. Chang looked to be in her mid- to late- thirties, tall and well-built, with straight black, shoulder-length hair tied in a ponytail, and brown almond-shaped eyes. For a human, she could be considered very attractive.

"Why you?" she asked, as he lowered his hand and put the can down.

"I'm the only one they got," Jazz replied. "I'm the only one with the skills to pull it off."

"That's a big responsibility for just one person. What if something goes wrong? Who do they have for back-up?"

"No one. That's why I'm tellin' ya ma'am, I cant afford to have any distractions. I need ya ta let me do my job."

"So I'm supposed to just let you walk out of here?"

"That would be nice."

"This wont be easy to explain to my superiors."

"I'd rather you don't."

"You want me to lie?"

"I want ya to be selective when ya tell the truth. If the 'Cons even suspect you've been talkin' to a 'Bot, they're not gonna hesitate ta come after ya. I advise ya and those two guys who brought me in ta forget ya even saw me. The 'Cons got spies everywhere." Jazz got up and knelt in front of her. "Your people ain't the only ones I'm tryin' ta protect."

Lt. Chang watched as he moved to the door. "I cant just let you walk out of here."

"I'm sorry ma'am. You can try ta stop me if ya like, try shooting me even, but I've already wasted precious time, and I don't wanna be the one ta cost a young kid his life. Do you?". He scanned for heat signatures just outside, and finding none, he opened the door and nimbly squeezed through. "Thanks for everything Ms. Chang. Maybe one day we'll meet again and I'll tell ya the whole story."

The woman only watched in silence as he made his way down the hall – moving incredibly silently for his size – and slipped through the back door. A few moments later she saw him drive past the window and blend back into the traffic on the road.


	13. Loopholes

**Loopholes**

Dashiel Faireborn leaned back on the couch in his living room, idly pressing buttons on his tv remote control and watching the channels flip by. Now and then he paused a while on a couple of news reports, but when they failed to hold his interest, he moved to the next station. As he stopped on yet another news channel, his eyes wandered around the house. It was quiet at the moment with Amanda out, having taken Marissa to school and running some errands. Then his gaze fell on his gun holster hanging on the coat rack near his jacket.

With a frustrated sigh, he tossed the remote control onto the coffee table with a clatter, resisting the urge to rip the bandage off his left hand and go charging out of the house to his car. He hated lying in sloth like this when there were things that had to be done, it made him too restless, and at the moment he was rather angry too. Jazz had no right to take him off the case, and as far as Dash was concerned, he was still on it. He may have been pulled from the Autobot side of it, but he was still working on the EDC side, and until they told him to stand down, he would keep working on it.

But, the more rational part of him reasoned, Jazz only did it to keep him and his family safe, and when he looked at it that way, he found he could not remain angry for too long. The Autobot had put the safety of the human family above the welfare of his own people and Dash knew that it was hardly a justified reason for his anger, so he quelled it. Besides, Jazz was a good friend to him, which was why, he reasoned to himself again, it wasn't right that the mech had decided to handle the mission all by himself.

Dash wouldn't readily admit it to just anybody, but there was a part of him that was worried about the black and white. He hadnt seen the mech since the day they had sent his spark off to Japan, and the phone call did little to reassure him. For all he knew, someone could have been impersonating Jazz's voice. The restlessness gnawed at his mind relentlessly till he finally stood up, went over to the phone and keyed in a sequence to a personal comm.link. Having done that, he slipped on his holster and jacket, went outside and sat down on the porch step to wait.

Not long after, a silver Subaru WRX pulled up in front of the house with a honk, and the front passenger-side door opened. Dash stood up, quickly crossed the lawn and got inside. The door shut after him and the car drove off.

"Thanks for coming on short notice Bluestreak," Dash said. "I'd have driven myself over were it not for my hand. Not to mention yours is the only other comm.link code I have besides Jazz's."

"No problem at all Dash," Bluestreak replied. "You're lucky I happened to be in the area, I just needed to get out of Autobot City for a while. It was getting rather heated over there if you know what I mean, what with Ratchet having to make all these repairs to all those guys who got hurt, and Prime all on edge with Jazz gone and everything."

"I'm sorry to have to ask you to go back there so soon then."

"Nah, that's ok, I had to head back again at some point. It IS home after all."

"How did all those guys get hurt?"

"Oh, that whole attack on Autobot City a few days ago, y'know, the one that distracted us from what happened at the EDC HQ. They used some heavy-duty weaponry on us. Ratchet's still repairing some of the guys and I'm glad I'm not one of them 'cause boy is he mad."

"I can imagine. Have you heard from Jazz?"

"I think he contacted Prime and Prowl a couple of days after the attack on the City, but I dunno what they talked about. Probably something about the mission, but I cant say what since I'm not involved in it."

The orange metal of Autobot City came into view and Bluestreak turned up one of the many drives. Dash couldn't help but notice there were fewer Autobots roaming around compared to the last time he'd been there. Bluestreak pulled up in front of an entrance and opened the door.

"Need me to walk you in?" he asked.

Dash got out. " I think I can find my way around." He shut the door. "Thanks for the ride Bluestreak."

"You're welcome, see ya Dash."

The Subaru drove off and Dash proceeded inside the complex. However, finding his way around proved to be much easier said than done. The place was huge, even by Autobot standards, and it wasn't as if there were signs to help him navigate his way to where he wanted to go.

"Now I know how an ant feels," he muttered to himself.

What made matters worse was that every hallway looked the same and were painted in the exact same shade of orange. Dash never felt it before since in previous times he'd always had an Autobot with him. He reached a t-junction and hesitated, not sure which way to turn. From the right Ratchet's voice echoed.

"By Primus! I swear if you don't quit your whining I will have your head as a hood ornament!"

Dash smirked. Bluestreak hadnt been kidding when he said Ratchet was on edge. The medic sounded as if he'd like to make good on his threat. Dash also figured that he was close to the medbay. He rubbed his chin, trying to remember.

"You seem lost Dashiel, can I help you?" Prowl asked from behind him.

Dash spun around. He hadnt even heard the Autobot come up. "How did you do that?"

"There are reasons they call me Prowl," the mech said.

"Well they're justified."

Prowl walked on, turning left, and Dash fell into step – somewhat – beside him.

"May I inquire as to the purpose of this sudden visit?" Prowl asked after a moment.

"Its about Jazz," Dash said, knowing full well that Prowl had already guessed as much.

"What about him?"

"That's just it! I havent heard anything from him since that phone call. How is he? Where is he?"

"When we last spoke to him, he seemed fine. As for his whereabouts, I'm afraid I cannot tell you."

"Why not?"

"You do recall you are no longer on this case."

"The hell I'm not! Jazz had no right to do that!"

"On the contrary, Jazz is the mission leader, and if he deems it necessary that you are a liability, then he has every right to do so."

"Somehow it sounded nicer the way he put it. Look, I was assigned by the EDC to help you guys. I'm not off this case till they say so."

"Suffice it to say we no longer need your help."

"That's a load of crap and you know it. So does Jazz."

"Dashiel, you do not truly understand just how powerful the Decepticons are. What you witnessed was simply a small fraction of their power. They would not hestitate to eliminate you instantly if they knew the information you carried, nor would they spare your family. I believe Jazz mentioned something similar."

"I appreciate your concern, but I knew the risks going into this job. My family understands them too. And you're not dealing only with Decepticons anymore. There are humans involved too, and that concerns the EDC."

Prowl stopped walking and looked down at the man, who stared defiantly back up at him. The Autobot sighed and then resumed walking, motioning Dash to follow.

"You're a stubborn human, Dashiel Faireborn," the tactician said. "Let us go and talk."

He led the way to the Control Room, and once inside, helped the man onto the console, before sitting down himself. Dash looked around for a moment.

"Where's Prime?" he asked.

"In a meeting," Prowl replied. "With some representitives of Ford Motor Corp."

"Ford Motors? What do they want?"

"As you may have heard, some of our Autobots were badly injured in that attack, but none more so than the Dinobots. Ratchet has managed to stabilize four of them in stasis, but Grimlock requires immediate attention or we may quite well lose him. Wheeljack, too, was damaged while trying to protect them."

"So you're planning another Binaltech transfer?"

"For Grimlock and Wheeljack, yes."

"If I were you Prowl, I'd consider getting one myself. You don't look all that good either."

"Perhaps. Once all the others are out of danger, and if Prime and Ratchet deem it necessary, then I may consider it. Now, our matter of business concerns those humans. Do you think the EDC will have any information?"

"They might. Tell me all you know, and describe anyone you remember. With the EDC database and Teletran One's help we might be able to identify them and find out who they're working for."

So Prowl launched into as detailed an account as he could possibly give, pulling up various Autobots' reports as he did so, to confirm certain statements or to make sure he hadnt left anything out. dash fed whatever facts he thought important into the systems, and bit by bit, they were able to get their answers. At this point, the door slid open and Optimus Prime walked in. He raised an optic ridge upon seeing Dash Faireborn.

"Dashiel," he said with a nod to the man. "I wont say I'm not surprised to see you here. Is everything alright?"

"Actually, I came to help you guys."

"Didn't Jazz take you off the case?"

"There was a loophole," said Prowl. "Did the meeting end okay?"

Prime nodded. "They'll start work on Grimlock this week."

"That's good. In the meantime, Dashiel and I have managed to identify the organization that attacked us," Prowl informed him.

The Autobot leader's optics flared brightly for an instant, indicating his surprise at this latest bit of news. "How did you manage it?"

"With Dash's help and all-area clearance, we were able to access certain archieved EDC files, and once we had proper descriptions of the more recognizable humans, it was just a matter of linking and eliminating through the database."

"And he's fast," Dash added, jabbing a thumb in Prowl's direction. "It would have taken me days to narrow everything down, and here he does it in a matter of minutes."

Prime's optics glowed and Dash got the impression that he was smiling behind his face-mask.

"So what do we know?" Prime asked.

"The army that attacked us was led by a General Krieger and one Baron Von Raney," Prowl said. "We ran a background information check on them and found out they're both in league with Sean Berger, remember him?"

"Reluctantly," Prime replied, and Dash saw the leader's blue left hand clench into a fist. Obviously, the human and the Autobots had a not-so-pleasant past. "What has he got to do with all this?"

"He founded some organization called Concurrence, which include the afore-mentioned Baron and General."

"I thought he lost most of his money after that incident?"

"He lost his money, but not his influence. He has apparently managed to convince the Baron and one Lord Chumleigh into financing Concurrence and providing it with a headquarters."

"And all these people are connected to the Decepticons through…".

"Dr. Archeville," Dash filled in. "Who's also working for Starscream. But I don't understand…. They're all for anti-Transformers, why then would they be helping the 'Cons?"

"Few Autobots would want to eradicate the Decepticon race as a whole," Prime replied. "However, the Decepticons themselves would like nothing more than to wipe every Autobot off the face of the Earth and Cybertron. To put it simply Dashiel, there's a saying that goes something like: 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend'."

Dash nodded. "So they ally to help the 'Cons come up with the technology to kill off you Autobots."

"And then use that technology to eliminate the Decepticons afterwards," Prowl added.

"I guess it all makes sense in some twisted kinda way, but isnt Starscream aware that they plan to turn on him?"

"He probably is. Most likely, he's thinking the same way they are: once the Autobots are gone, use the technology and eliminate his human allies. However, they have to first succeed in their primary goal of getting rid of us, a goal which we're counting on Jazz to prevent them from reaching."

"And speaking of Jazz," Prime said. "You mentioned Concurrence has a base of operations. Can we track it down?"

Prowl smiled grimly. "Lord Chumleigh is a rich man who owns several properties all over the world – a villa in the South of France, a plantation in India, a resort in the Caribbean. He also happens to own a large mansion and an acre of land close to the Altay Mountains of Mongolia."

"Which is close to where Jazz is!" Prime exclaimed.

"Exactly." Prowl folded his arms over his chest.

Dash looked at the two mechs. "Jazz doesn't know all this does he?"

"Given the fact that we only found out this information just now, I think we can safely assume that no, he doesn't."

"So lets call him up and tell him."

"We never contact Jazz when he's on a mission," Prime told him. "We don't know what situation he may be in currently, and a call from us could very well blow his cover. He normally contacts us if he needs anything."

"Well how often does he check in?" Dash asked.

"Rarely," Prowl answered. "Sometimes never."

"That doesn't help us. He needs this information and we've got to get it to him somehow. Where did he last call you from?"

"Mazda Headquarters, Japan. From there he said he was heading to China to pinpoint the Decepticons' location."

"Good, then send me to Japan and I'll track him from there."

"Dashiel…" Prime began.

"I'm all you got Optimus. You cant send another Autobot in, it'll look too suspicious and blow Jazz's cover. Not to mention alert the Decepticons and Concurrence that they've got an Autobot closing in. I'm just another human, nobody's gonna give a crap about me."

"Prime exchanged a look with his Second. "What do you think, Prowl?"

**----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**A/N:** this is progressing rather slowly for the moment... but i intend to finish it at some point, so do bear with me... i just see this as a long-term project...


	14. If Luck Be A Lady

**If Luck Be A Lady**

Jazz was too tired to think at the moment. It had been two days since his detour at the police station, and since then he'd been driving without rest as if trying to make up for the hours lost. On the plus side, he'd covered quite a bit of distance. On the minus, he was tired as hell, and he knew that if he didn't stop and rest for a while, there was every chance that he would burn out his systems and start falling apart. He could just picture the look on Ratchet's face and hear the colorful words coming out of his mouth if the Medic ever got word of what he was doing right now. The thought was sobering enough to him that he began looking for a suitable place to park and shut down for the night, where he wouldn't look too conspicuous.

He had left the main city district behind the previous day, and was now quite close to leaving the Beijing province altogether. He just needed to rest somewhere and fuel up somehow before the really long drive began. He scanned through a cross-section of the area he was in and found that there was a public parking lot a few meters to the left of where he was now. He decided to look for it, and soon enough, after making a left turn into a side-street, he drew up alongside the open-air carpark on his right. It stood in between a block of seedy apartment units and a darkened factory building, and was thankfully not deserted of other vehicles.

Jazz turned into the parking lot and reversed into a spot alongside the wire-mesh fence, near the entrance. Satisfied with his position, he cut his engine and headlights and waited for some of his systems to cool before shutting down for what was left of the night. A light breeze blew across the open space, running cool, soothing fingers along the length of his body, taking away some of the heat from his engine and tyres. He longed to transform into robot mode and stretch himself, but he didn't want to risk being spotted. So with a quiet sigh to himself, he began to shut down.

… Some time during the pre-dawn hour, Jazz awoke for no apparent reason and he groaned internally since he'd wanted to rest for a few more hours, before starting on another long drive. He was just about to try and shut down again when he heard it – footsteps close beside him. Then he felt the warm tingle of a human hand on his left back door. He tensed. The last thing he needed now was to be car-jacked. The hand left his door, and when he next felt it again, it was on the lid of his trunk. Someone was trying to force it open. Rather than risk it getting broken, Jazz subtly unlocked it, figuring that if whoever it is was trying to steal something out of it, they were going to be sorely disappointed when they saw nothing inside.

He cast his scanners back as the person fumbled with the catch, and to his surprise, made out the form of a young woman. The heat signature radiating off her indicated she was very tense, but Jazz didn't need that to tell him that this might not be a simple case of stealing after all. The way she kept whipping her head around and looking in all directions, as if she expected someone to jump out at her, told Jazz that there was more to this than met the eye – or optic in his case.

The woman finally got the lid open. What she did next startled Jazz even more. She climbed inside and gently drew the lid down again, leaving only a tiny gap so that she could breathe.

Remaining as still as he could, Jazz scanned the surrounding area and soon spotted a large man walking down the pavement towards the carpark, his head turning from side to side as if he was looking for something – or someone. It didn't take Jazz's sharp mind more than a second to put two and two together. The man entered the carpark and started peering into some of the other cars, all the while shouting words in Chinese which, to Jazz, didn't sound at all pleasant, and as he did so, the mech heard what sounded like a frightened, muffled sob come from the woman in his trunk.

Somehow Jazz knew that if she was found, things would not end well for her. Suffice it to say that not all men were gentlemen when it came to the treatment of a lady. Prudence dictated that he should just stay where he was and hope that the man wouldn't find her, but he knew that was unlikely, given the way he was yanking on door handles and pounding his fists on trunk lids. He also knew that there was no way he'd ever be able to sit still should the man find her and start slapping her around.

In the end, Jazz's gentle, chivalrous nature won out over prudence. He decided to trust to luck, and if luck be a lady – as the human saying went – then he figured he was in good hands. He cranked up his engine, ignoring the startled cry of surprise from the trunk, floored his accelerator and with a screech of tyres drove out of the carpark, leaving the man staring in astonishment. He heard the young woman start crying in what he hoped was relief, and then heard her softly murmur something in what he thought was English.

"Aw c'mon now girl," he said aloud. "Don't fret, you'll get to see your Mama and Daddy soon."

There was a moment of silence, and then a frightened voice asked, "Who are you?"

"I'm a friend. Don't worry, I ain't gonna hurt ya, but I need ya ta do a li'l somethin' for me."

"I have little money, so I cannot pay you for your help."

"I don't want your money girl, all I want is for you to trust me. That ain't hard ta do fer the guy who rescued ya is it?"

"N-no…. Okay, I will trust you."

"Good gal. Now hang in there for just a li'l while longer till I find us a place quiet enough where we'll both be safe."

Five minutes later Jazz turned into a roughly-cut lane that was sandwiched between two empty warehouses. By this time, the dawn light was slowly adding patches and streaks of color to the dark blue-grey sky. Jazz came to a stop and popped the lid of his trunk open for the woman to climb out. When she did, she came round to his left front door.

"I thank you for saving me," she said.

"No thanks needed li'l lady, just happy to be of service," Jazz replied. "Where'll you go now?"

"I am trying to return home to my family's village in the Central Provinces. I only fear I may not have enough money for a train ticket, for the journey is rather long."

Jazz said nothing for a while, again fighting a war within himself of mission versus morals. He took a good long look at the young woman standing on the pavement beside him. She looked no older than 22, had long straight, black hair and dark brown, almond eyes. She wore a simple, faded, ankle-length denim skirt and a brown t-shirt; and wore no accessories save for a simple pair of gold earrings. Streaks of dust and dried tears smudged her otherwise pretty face, and her small, delicate hands were roughened by many hours of hard labour.

He was no fool. He knew what some of the working conditions in those factories and warehouses were like. He knew how poor, village people were exploited into doing hard labor for minimal wages. He knew how those people were treated. He knew Decepticons didn't necessarily have to be robots alone. There were humans who behaved far worse than them sometimes.

A journey from Beijing to the Central Provinces could take at least three days by train, and to Jazz, the thought of this little girl stranded in the middle of nowhere, with no money and no one around to help her, weighed heavy on his spark. Could he really bring himself to just leave her to her fate?

While the debate raged on in his head, the young woman took a step back and bowed to him as gracefully as she could.

"Once more, I thank you for your help," she said and began to walk away.

That jolted Jazz out of his thoughts and into action.

"Hold on there lady!" he called. She stopped and looked back. He edged forward on his tyres. "Maybe I can save ya the money and the walk to the train station. See, I'm headed out there maself." He paused and she looked at him half-curious, half-afraid. He sighed. "Guess what I'm tryin' ta say is: would ya like ta ride with me?"

Now she looked surprised. "That… that is very kind of you, and I thank you for your generous offer, but I have nothing to give you in return."

"I don't want nothin' from ya ma'am, just the pleasure of your company. I've been travelin' all by my lonesome for a long while now, it'd be nice ta have someone to talk to again."

He opened his front passenger door and the woman gasped and stepped back quickly upon seeing the empty interior.

"W-what are you?"

"Y'ever heard of Transformers?" he asked. She nodded. "Well, I'm one of 'em, an Autobot – one of the good guys. I'd transform for ya, but y'see, I'm supposed ta be here in secret and in disguise, so I'm trustin' ya to help me keep this a secret. Will ya trust me now and come with me?"

She nodded again. "Okay." Stepping off the pavement, she got inside.

Jazz shut the door after her. "Alright, now strap yourself in and we'll be off!" He began moving once again. "And I don't believe I caught ya name the first time."

"My name is Chi Jia Mei," she said, and a small smile lit up her face. "What is your name?"

"The name's J- Meister. Pleasure ta meet ya Jia Mei. Now, I'm a bit of a stranger ta these parts, so why don't ya help me find the quickest way outta here and onto the highway that'll take us westward."

Jia Mei leaned forward. "Turn left here," she said, and she soon navigated them back into the main flow of traffic.

For a while they concentrated on moving as quickly as possible through the heavy morning rush-hour traffic, so they spoke little, keeping a lookout instead for any opening, which Jia Mei had a knack for spotting. Two hours later, Jazz finally crossed the Beijing state's border and pulled onto the exit ramp that led away from the busy highway. The road stretched ahead like a silver-grey ribbon that wound its way through hills and valleys, towns and fields – straight for the most part, though now and again branching off in varied directions.

Jazz held their course straight, unless Jia Mei directed him otherwise. Now that they'd left the hectic pace of the city behind, they could relax and talk for a bit. The sun rose higher and shone down hot and bright, but thankfully Jazz's tinted windows filtered most of the glare. Jia Mei leaned back in her seat and drew the back of her hand across her left cheekbone. She grimaced at the dirt smudges. Jazz smiled mentally to himself and opened his glove compartment to reveal a box of tissue.

"Help yerself girl," he said with a light chuckle in his voice.

"Thank you," she replied, pulling out a few sheets and wiping her face and arms.

"Not a problem darlin', happy ta be of service, but if ya don't mind me askin', why were you hidin' from that guy earlier? He hurt you or anythin'?"

"No, but I fear he would have, had he found me," Jia Mei said, stuffing the dirty tissues into her pocket to dispose of properly later. "I came to Beijing from my village four years ago to look for work so I could support my parents, who are simple farmers. I was given a job at a garment factory close by to where you met me. The old supervisor was a kind man. He always paid us well, and always allowed us to visit our families once a month. He also taught English to those of us who wanted to learn it."

"Sounds like a nice guy. So I'm guessin' he's not the one who chased you into that carpark huh?"

"No. He had to go away temporarily on business, and he left that horrible man in charge. He would not allow me to home, so I ran away against his wishes. I will not go back until the old master returns. This man treats us as if we are nothing more than stupid, mindless machines." She gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. "I am sorry! I did not mean it like that."

Jazz laughed. "Its alright, I know what ya meant. No offense taken, so don't worry about it."

Jia Mei rested her arm along his window rim. "You said you were here in secret, but why?"

"Well if I told ya, it wouldn't be a secret anymore would it?" Jazz asked.

"I suppose not. Forgive me, I should not have asked.

"Just suffice it to say that its important that no one knows I'm an Autobot, and that no one knows I'm here. I shouldn't have even revealed myself ta you, but hey, sometimes an Autobot's gotta be a gentleman and help out a pretty lady."

Jia Mei laughed and ducked her head, blushing ever so slightly. "I am honored that you trust me. Do not worry Meister, I will keep your secret. Maybe I can even help you."

"I'd be mighty grateful to ya if ya could."

The sun, now reaching its noon point, beat down relentlessly on the world below it, and out here in the countryside, free of exhaust fumes and smoke from the factories, colors shone out all the brighter. Fields of rice glowed a dazzling green, hillsides gleamed golden-brown, here and there wildflowers showed off their blossoms of pink, violet, blue and white as they bobbed and danced in the breeze along the edges of the road.

Immersed in pleasant surroundings and pleasant company, Jazz barely felt the miles as they slipped away under his tyres. Jia Mei spoke of her family and life on their farm which, as she admitted, was nothing much to talk about. Her father ploughed the rice fields while her mother bred chickens for eggs and meat. Most of their produce they would take to sell in the nearby village, the rest they kept as their daily rations. The income they brought was just enough to ensure that the water kept running and the plough kept working, and that there was enough feed for the chickens. At 18, Jia Mei left her home for the capital city in the hopes of bringing a higher income back to her now-aged parents.

By the time she finished her story, they had reached the outskirts of a small village. Jazz checked his speed and slowed down considerably.

"We'd best stop and find ya somethin' ta eat girl, y'must be starvin'," he said.

"What about you?" Jia Mei asked. "You must require some type of fuel?"

"Well, energon's usually best, but any type of fuel should do, though I've no idea where to get some around here."

"It's a good thing you've got me with you then." She unbuckled her seatbelt. "Find some place to park where you wont stand out so much. I'll be back soon."

Before Jazz had even come to complete stop, Jia Mei had popped open the door and jumped out. Stumbling, then catching herself, she walked briskly to one of the village dwellings. Jazz mentally shook his head, then went on to look for a place to wait where his sports car alt mode wouldn't look too conspicuous. He found a spot between a broken-down house and a rice field, reversed in alongside the house and shut off his engine. Now that he had some time to himself, he was a little surprised to find out just how tired he really was. Never before had a mission been this long or this tiring, but then again, neither had he been in a new body prior to this. He chalked the soreness down to that.

While he waited for Jia Mei to return, he tried to shut down and see if he could catch a few snatches of sleep, but barely an hour had passed when he felt a pat on his left side, near his fuel hatch.

"Open up Meister!" Jia Mei called. "I was able to get some fuel for you." She held up a quarter gallon can of liquid.

"How'd you manage it?" Jazz asked as he popped open the hatch. "I'd feel mighty bad if ya had ta pay for it outta your hard-earned wages."

"Don't worry about it." Jia Mei winked as she poured the fuel into his tanks. "A lady offered me this and some food if I could help her darn a bundle of clothes, which I did."

"In just an hour? Dang girl, you work fast."

Jia Mei put the empty can down and closed the fuel hatch securely. "Years of needlework. You pick up a trick or two after all that time."

Jazz cranked up his engine and opened the door for her to get in. Once she was safely strapped into the seat, he pulled out of his 'hiding' place and back onto the road again.

Afternoon bled into evening and the setting sun stained the fields around them with a blood-red hue. A few pale stars appeared in the dark-blue eastern sky and a crescent moon glowed weakly in the last rays of the sun.

"Sure is pretty out here," Jazz heard himself say. "Scenery like this kinda makes me forget I'm on a mission."

"But you don't really forget do you? You just stop thinking about it for a little while," Jia Mei replied.

"Yeah, ya got that right, an' sooner or later it makes itself known again." He sighed.

"So that is why you came to China? Because of this secret mission of yours?"

"Ya could say. I was in the middle o' my vacation when I got called back and put on this case."

"Why you?"

"Well, think of your situation – why are you out here?"

"For my family. I want them to be safe and secure, and I am the only one who can help them."

"There ya go. I ain't got family like you do, but the guys… we're pretty close-knit, and right now, I'm all they got. If I cant pull this mission off… let's just say things ain't gonna be pretty. Lotta lives at stake." Jazz gave himself a mental shake of his head, feeling a sense of déjà vu and recalling that he'd had this conversation before – most recently with the policewoman in Beijing.

"Many lives are a heavy burden for just one pair of shoulders," Jia Mei said. "Are you truly that alone?"

"Not per se, just in my line of work. Company kinda makes it more complicated." He checked his speed and slowed down a little. "Now listen, its getting' close ta night-time, so why don't you hop in the back, lie down and get some sleep, and I'll wake ya in the mornin' in time fer breakfast."

Jia Mei nodded and climbed over to the back where she curled up on the seat. "What about yourself?"

"I'll be fine li'l lady. Goodnight an' sweet dreams."

"Goodnight Meister." Jia Mei closed her eyes and was asleep in minutes.

Jazz smiled inwardly and continued his drive, though his thoughts began to turn once more to Dash Faireborn. He hoped the man was getting on alright and was not too bitter about being taken off the case.

**--------------------------------------------**


End file.
